City of Ink
by NeuroticMuse413
Summary: COMPLETE! Post-COG. To keep her health issues a secret from Jace, Clary takes a vow of celibacy. But how long will she last, and how far will Jace go to protect her? Sex talks with Alec, Magnus wears white, & Izzy falls in love... again. Rated M.
1. Birds & the Bees with Alec Lightwood

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**CITY OF INK  
**_By NeuroticMuse413_

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**DISCLAIMER:** I am not Cassandra Clare. I'm making no money off this. Obviously.

**SUMMARY:** Post-COG. To keep her health issues a secret from Jace, Clary takes a vow of celibacy. But how long will she last, and how far will Jace go to protect her? Sex talks with Alec, Magnus wears white, & Izzy falls in love... again. Jace/Clary, all canon pairings. Rated M later on, if continued.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** _This is just something that came to thought after reading City of Glass (in one night, mind you). I thought I'd write it down while all the details from the original were fresh in my mind. Also, this story now has an official playlist. The link is on my profile and it will be updated as chapters develop. _

This chapter's song: **Bittersweet Symphony**_** by The Verve**  
_

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**CHAPTER ONE:** _The Birds and the Bees with Alec Lightwood_

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The view from Clary's room at the Institute wasn't much during mid-day when the hot summer sun came down upon the gritty city, illuminating every filthy alleyway and rusted old bridge. But, the light was perfect for drawing and these days, that's all she ever cared to do. Her mother had suggested she finally take those weekend art classes she'd been dying to get and – much to Jace's annoyance – spent most of her afternoons drawing by her window.

Ever since they returned from the Glass City, they'd fallen into a comfortable, silent rhythm. They'd all eat breakfast together, train, and go hunt. When they came back home for lunch, Clary would skip the bad take-out and sit by the window with her sketchbook. Jace would come into her room unannounced, no flashy entrances or witty remarks, and lie down on the bed. Whenever she turned to him, he seemed to be patiently napping but she could feel his eyes on her. Always.

Her favorite time of the day came after the sun started to flicker away beneath the clouds and she shut her sketchbook. Before the pages could finish fluttering closed in the light breeze, Jace was already smirking, anticipating what was to come. He didn't have to move from the bed. She'd come to him – no hurry in her step – and lie down on her side.

Then, each day was different. When they'd first come back, these were some of the few moments they had to be a normal teenage couple and make out on the bed. Now that the days' activities were getting busier, she settled for running her hands through his hair as he slept, too tired for much else. Sometimes, she fell asleep beside him, her arm across his waist as if making sure he didn't fly away.

But, the silence was starting to get to her.

Sometimes days went by and nobody spoke in the house, not since Max. Even Magnus had stopped coming by. Alec visited him instead and it seemed to suit them. Clary couldn't help but compare her relationship with Jace to theirs and feel something lacking. She longed for his snarky remarks and the constant feeling of impending doom. She longed for his touch and… him. It felt like she was kissing an empty shell. And while the smirks were there and the silence was comfortable, they were lacking in romance.

She stared down at her sketch of the Institute's gargoyles and grimaced, no longer satisfied with simply improving her skill. The sketch seemed pointless, irrelevant. She couldn't figure out what she was doing or why. Her mind was set to auto-pilot and she was starting to want the reins back. She knew it was wrong to choose a piece of paper over the boy she loved but she just couldn't bring herself to get up off the window sill.

"Jace?" she croaked towards the bed, biting her bottom lip anxiously.

"Uh huh," he moaned back. He was resting with his arms behind his head and his ankles crossed, his hair carelessly spread across her pillow. She thought he did it on purpose so his scent would linger and she'd fall asleep easier. There was no way Maryse was going to let him sleep over and had taken to locking the doors from outside at nights.

When she didn't continue, he reluctantly sat up on the bed so she had his full attention. He caught the way her hands shook around her pencil and the crease in his forehead returned. He still couldn't bring himself to leave the bed, even to comfort her. It was better if he kept his distance. He knew she was still reluctant to letting him touch her though neither was sure why.

"Clary? What is it?" he demanded in a firmer tone, about to set his foot on the floor. He was somewhat waiting for the day she realized she could do better. "You're scaring me."

She feigned a smile and shook her head, lifting her eyes from her gargoyle sketch long too briefly to count. She wasn't fooling anyone and she knew it. She didn't have the strength to properly fake anything.

"Would you like to go out to dinner tonight?" she deflected, finding the strength to put on a slightly more convincing smile.

He visibly relaxed. "Yeah, sure. I'll tell the others."

She scoffed and set the sketchpad down on the sill beside her. "No! I mean just _us_! We never go out anymore and—"

She stopped, her eyes meeting his. The smile was back, her favorite one. It crinkled up his angelic face and made her feel like he was undressing her with his mind. For all she knew, he was.

"What I meant was… I'll tell the others not to wait up." She shot him a look that said _cocky bastard_ and went to reach for the sketchpad again. He dashed across the room and, before her fingers met paper, he was holding her in his arms. "Oh no," he said, the smile even brighter from up close. "I finally got you to set down that stupid book and I'm not giving you back. Consider yourself taken for the evening."

It was supposed to be sweet but there was hidden menace to his words as though he were threatening her with harm if she didn't come back to him. It wasn't impending doom but she liked it. She liked it when he claimed her as his own, especially now that everyone knew about them and there was no more hidden intrigue.

She reached up and brushed his hair back from his eyes. It was getting long but the planes of his face had changed over the summer. She wasn't sure if he was just getting older or if it was the same old face only she was allowed to look now, unashamed. She wished she had the courage to draw him but no pencil could capture what the curve of these lips did to her or the mystery of these angles she hadn't seen before.

She caved. "What are we doing then? Enlighten me, master."

He raised a devious eyebrow. That and the smile and Clary didn't stand a chance. If he'd asked her to fight down a Ravener demon with a swizzle stick, she would have said yes.

"You know, I could always ask Isabelle to lend us her new whip," he suggested, pulling her closer so his hip bones dug into waist.

"Aren't we confident?" She laughed and instinctively locked her wrists behind her neck. "It's cute how you think you'd be on top."

He sputtered dramatically as if offended but she just rolled her eyes and brought his lips down on hers. It wasn't the most passionate of kisses, mainly because she was trying to shut him up. She couldn't believe that after such an internal fuss about getting him back, she was now trying to preoccupy his tongue.

Someone cleared their throat from the open doorway (another of Maryse's rules for living under the same household) and Jace groaned against her lips, vibrating them pleasantly.

"What do you want?" he mumbled, hooking her leg up on his left hip bone. They gracefully fell back against the wall beside the window. The only part of Clary Alec could see was her leg up in the air. Everything else was swallowed up by Jace's frame. He cleared his throat louder. Clary moaned for the sake of the joke, deliriously happy to have his weight against her once more.

"For the love of God!" shouted Alec. "I could have been my mother at the door!"

Jace and Clary broke apart finally, chuckling as Clary straightened the hem of her shirt. Jace smoothed back his hair and confidently strolled across the room. "You're more like your mother every day, I always say. Down to the purple lipstick you've got smeared all over your neck."

Alec shot him a murderous look but checked in Clary's mirror nonetheless. "You're good," hissed Clary from across the room, still lingered against the wall so they couldn't see how tired the kiss had left her. "He was kidding."

"What'cha got for me, Alexander?" asked Jace, extending a hand out for Alec. It was a book he'd borrowed from Jace's bookshelf but everyone got the hint that he had something he wanted to say and needed an excuse to see them.

"_War and Peace_?" read Jace with rising levels of outrage in his voice. "Did you just pick this at random? Honestly man, you might as well have picked up the _Encyclopedia of Mushrooms and Fungi_. That at least has alternative recreational purposes."

"Buzz off, jackass. I need to speak to Clary."

Clary instantly stiffened and Jace looked back over his shoulder for any sign that she knew what it was about. Her face was as shocked as his. Alec never wanted to talk to Clary. As far as she knew, he would sooner throw her off the roof than ask for a private conference.

"I see…" said Jace, squinting. He raised his hands up in the air in surrender and started out the room. He spun around halfway there, suddenly remembering his date with Clary. "Oh! And I'll pick you up at six. Wear those jeans I like."

He shot her another devastating smile and closed the doors behind him. "I hate it when he does that," she whispered to no one in particular.

Alec nodded, understanding exactly what she meant. Suddenly realizing she was alone in her bedroom with Alec of all people, she politely gestured for him to sit on the bed while she retook the window sill.

"What's up?" His eyes seemed to linger on the wrinkled bed sheets. She didn't know why but she felt an intense need to explain. "Oh he was just taking a nap. We really were just joking."

"Oh," he replied, his voice dripping dull disappointment.

"Uh… Is there something I can help you with, Alec?"

He straightened up as if snapping out of a trance and took a moment to collect his thoughts before blatantly asking, "Have you screwed him yet?"

Clary's eyes shot wide open. "Excuse me?"

His voice shifted tones. Suddenly, he was diplomatic and formal, his eyes no longer wandering with his mind. "Sorry. That might have sounded wrong. Uhm… As you know, things are getting serious with Magnus and I needed someone to talk to about it but, well, I can't talk to Izzy about it because… she's Izzy. And I certainly can't talk to Jace about it, also for obvious reasons, so I figured you were the safest choice."

A slow smile spread on Clary's lips. "That's… actually kind of nice. You trust me. You trust me?"

He scoffed. "As far as I can throw you but I know you're definitely more discreet than the others."

She nodded. That much was true. She realized she had Isabelle to keep her secrets if need be but Alec was her brother. There was a certain biological urge to tease and blackmail that couldn't be suppressed. "You know, Jace is probably better at this than I am," she offered. "I mean, I don't mind talking but he does the whole seduction thing on instinct."

By his smirk, she knew he knew this was true. "I don't need any help seducing, Clary. I just want to talk about it like it's something casual and everyday and not one of the most important parts of my life."

She could hear the stress in his voice. His hands clenched the edge of the mattress firmly and she wished she could help him. "Okay! Sure!" she said with unnecessary enthusiasm. "Let's talk."

"So… have you two done it yet?"

She laughed, though it really wasn't funny. Casual. Everyday. Sure. She could do this! "Nope. Close. When we got back we made out a lot on my bed, but that was before your mother posted up her list of household etiquette and whatnot. Now, it's a miracle if we find the time or place to do what you saw today."

"Oh. Then I'm sorry I interrupted."

She shrugged but he really should be sorry. "I think we're turning into one of those domestic couples. I dunno. He doesn't even seem to want it."

He cocked an eyebrow. "He's a guy. Of course he wants it. Especially him. Do you?"

She gulped. She hadn't really thought about it. Certainly, she dreamed about his hands on her body, his lips and his weight atop her on the bed like before. But sex? She took a little too long to respond. He waited patiently as she stared – blank as a sheet of paper – at the door.

Her silence was all the answer he needed so she quickly changed the subject. "How about you two? Magnus obviously wants it."

Alec laughed, honestly and _loudly_. It just wasn't natural. "Gee, you think? I hadn't noticed. He's a little too obvious sometimes, if you know what I mean. Like, in public places. Remember two weeks ago when I was limping all over the place? Yea, that wasn't a wrestling match with a Forsaken. That was the back room at Pandemonium."

Clary was stifling giggles. She was sure she was supposed to be uncomfortable but she just found the whole thing hilarious. Not just the back room. The fact that Alec of all people needed to "talk."

Then, it hit her.

He didn't need to talk at all. _She_ did. It'd been written all over her face the last month. Isabelle was too preoccupied with herself and Jace was too close to her to notice. Alec was always in the background, lurking and watching. Seeing their little performance and the wrinkled sheets and of course he thought it was about sex. Realization blossomed on her face and he got the hint that the jig was up.

"What's really bothering you?" he asked, leaning forward onto his knees. Now that the attention was off him, he relaxed. She smirked because he cared and, though a perplexing notion, it felt nice to have a legitimate brotherly figure watching out for her. Her last brotherly figure didn't turn out that brotherly.

She mimicked his stance and bit her lip. "Alec, what if one of you was sick? Where would you go?"

He was perfectly serious. She'd forgotten what it was like to talk to a person for longer than thirty seconds without making some sort of joke. "What kind of sick?"

"Can barely walk straight sick."

He shook his head. "We don't get that kind of sick. Usually we can heal everything up with a rune. Have you tried that?" She pulled up the sleeve of her left arm where she'd burned an _Iratze_ into her skin over and over again. He flinched when he saw it. "Are you crazy? Why didn't you tell us sooner?"

"It's not working, Alec."

"Have you tried seeing a doctor?"

"In what time? When we're not fighting demons, Jace is always with me. The only time I'm alone is at art class but that's just an hour."

He covered his eyes with his palm. "Dammit. You're going to have to tell him, Clarissa."

She hated the way her name rolled off his tongue. She felt two years old again and terribly small. "He'll just freak out," she whispered, wringing her hands on her lap. "I figured it would go away but it hasn't."

He sighed and stood, a plan formulating in his head. "Look, it'll be six soon. Get dressed, cover up that monstrous scar, and I'll see about distracting him tomorrow. Maybe we can pretend we're going out for take-out and see if Magnus can tell us anything. I dunno. I'll think about it tonight."

"Thank you," she answered with certain finality, going to stand and lead him out.

"Have fun tonight, okay?" he whispered as she slowly closed the door behind him. The concern was burned into his forehead. She tried to smile, if only to ease him and make it less obvious to the others. "You can't let him suspect."

His final words clung to her mind. He was worried, yes, but she assumed he was more worried for Jace than her. She understood that losing her meant losing _him_ and he wouldn't have that. They were all tied together. One family, a family that couldn't stand to lose another member.

The problem was that she had sparked something in him today. That kiss against the wall was too intense to ignore. She knew that if she went on this date, if she let him pick up where the kiss ended, he would surely find the scar on her arm. If she wanted to protect the family, she was going to have to keep Jace at bay and fully dressed.

She might as well try to disarm a bomb.

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_Might continue it. Might not. Up to you guys. Let me know if you like it._ _There just doesn't seem to be enough Mortal Instruments fanfiction out there!_

**Reviews are better than the back room at Pandemonium. **


	2. Conversations on the Ceiling

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**CHAPTER TWO:  
**_Conversations on the Ceiling_

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_I was so glad to see you liked the story! I'm stuck between making it funny and making it deadly serious. So, for now, it's a little of both worlds. And I'll try not to kill anyone off. Lol. As for Clary's illness, it's something magical and occurred because of events in the actual books. Hint! I just can't say _which_ book. More on it next chapter. _

This chapter's song: **Can't Take My Eyes Off of You _by Muse_.** _(Yes, I know there are other version. This is my favorite.)_

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Clary opened up her suitcase – still unpacked even months after Idris – and pulled out every pair of jeans she owned, spreading them out on her bed. There were five, and she realized she had no idea which one Jace liked. To her, they all pretty much looked the same and she felt the same in them.

Had it been a joke or would he be disappointed if she wore the wrong one?

_Screw it_, she thought and put on the short little red dress she'd yet to wear. It was among the things Luke had bought her but since it had long, thick sleeves, she never thought to wear it in summer. She looked at herself in the full-length mirror by the window and sighed, wishing she could be like Isabelle who oozed sensuality out her eyeballs. She also wished she could fight demons in three-inch stripper heels but that was another issue entirely.

"Hey!" said Izzy, strolling into the room just then with a popsicle in hand. Clary jumped, holding her heart in her chest.

"Geez, Iz. You scared me."

She smiled, ignoring Clary's words entirely. Her eyes were fixed on the dress. She circled her, sucking on the popsicle like it was her last boyfriend. "You look tame," she finally announced.

Clary laughed and spun around before the mirror. "Perfect."

Izzy rolled her eyes and sat down on the edge of the messy bed. "He thinks he's getting laid tonight… Don't worry. He didn't say anything. It was that mad glint in his eyes."

Clary felt the blood rush to her cheeks and pretended to be searching her vanity table for make-up so Izzy didn't have to see her face. She found a lipstick in a matching red and was about to apply it in the mirror when her hand started shaking violent. The lipstick fell but she didn't care. She gripped the edge of the table to steady herself. She'd yet to faint but knew it was only a matter of time. Tomorrow couldn't come fast enough and she couldn't keep pretending forever.

Izzy hadn't noticed, as far as Clary could tell from her reflection in the mirror. "I'm not talking to you about my sex life, Isabelle. He's your brother for crying out loud!"

Izzy laughed and lied back on the bed, throwing the popsicle stick into the garbage can across the room. Her aim was impeccable and Clary wondered if she would have that sort of precision with more proper training from Jace.

"He talks to _me_ about it," she offered with a casual shrug. "All the time. It's not that big of a deal to us. Remember, Shadowhunters don't live long so we like to get things over with."

_Of course_, Clary thought. He couldn't possibly be a virgin, not with those eyes and that hair and the charm that threatened and beckoned at the same time.

She decided that if she was going to keep Izzy out of the loop, she was going to have to indulge her own curiosity and ask, "What does he say?"

Isabelle shot up in bed and grinned mischievously. She crossed her legs and leaned forward as if settling in for a long conversation. Clary raised an eyebrow but allowed her to continue. "He has been waiting like a lovesick puppy for you to finally be in the mood. It's so cute! He's been planning it like crazy, of course. At least you can't complain that he does things halfway."

Clary's eyes widened and she reached for the chair by the vanity table on her right. "Go on."

Izzy squealed. "Well he's down to three plans. I only know of two. One was apparently going to be where you had your first kiss."

Clary smiled and faced the floor, remembering a picnic among the flowers. That would have been nice, to relive the romance they'd started before Valentine's name was ever uttered.

"But he decided against that," she continued. "Something about dogs with new tricks. The other isn't as romantic. It was a bubble bath, I think, though where he's going to find a tub big enough for both of you at the Institute is beyond me… You seen him naked yet?"

Clary stifled the urge to burst out laughing and shook her head. Two sex talks in one day. She was supposed to be _avoiding_ sex! Nobody talks to her for two months and all of a sudden, she's the center of the Trojan universe?

"No, Iz. Well… No, Iz! I'm so not doing this!" she shouted, standing to search for her white slippers. "I am not discussing any part of Jace's anatomy with you!"

As soon as she looked up towards the door, a very stricken Jace was leaning against the entryway with his arms crossed over his chest. "Uh… it's six. You have dinner with certain parts of my anatomy."

She smirked back at him and gladly took his now outstretched hand. "Get me the hell out of here," she hissed, desperation in her voice. "They're trying to corrupt me!"

He laughed softly and led her out to the elevator. She noticed that he looked down the entire time, lost in some convoluted and no doubt perverted train of thought. They were silent again as the elevator slowly creaked down to the first floor. She took his distraction as a chance to admire him fully. He'd showered and his wet hair was sleeked back, probably with his fingers. He wore a V-neck sweater that matched his eyes and a nice pair of jeans.

She remembered suddenly his last request. "I'm sorry. I didn't know which pair of jeans you liked."

He shook his head and his eyes flew to her for a small moment, just long enough for him to genuinely say, "You look beautiful in anything."

He gave her hand a little squeeze between them but his smile was still a half-hearted gesture. "Is everything okay?"

"There's a café I discovered on the other side of town that I've been meaning to take you. Mind if we take the train?"

She shook her head and let him lead her silently down the street into the subway. It was relatively empty this time of day. She was surprised by how comfortable he'd gotten with public affection. After months of avoiding looks and touches, here he was with his arm around her waist as though he had arms solely for the reason of holding her steady and making her feel safe and loved. And though he did not speak and did not even realize he was being so romantic, she felt the need to cuddle closer to his chest and plant the slowest of kisses on his neck.

That seemed to snap him out of his thoughts and he looked down upon her with a more genuine smile and relit eyes. "Hey," she whispered gleefully. Though the train was noisy, she felt the need to whisper so he knew they were the only two people in the world. "You're back."

"Hey," he whispered back, pulling her even closer.

She rested a hand on his chest but found it too quick for someone standing so still. "Jace, what's going on?"

He gulped, surreptitiously but present nonetheless. "Maryse caught me on the way to my room. She just mentioned a few things."

"Like?"

He shook his head and tried to make her forget her train of thought with a carefully timed smirk. "It's not important. So you're going to love this café! I promise! It's an orgasm with four walls and a roof."

"I hope there's a floor," she joked.

"Nope," he said in all seriousness.

Her eyes widened. She was almost positive he wasn't joking. "I'm sorry… what was that?"

"There's no floor. People eat on the ceiling. Well, mundanes eat on the floor. We eat on the ceiling and watch them under a glamour."

Her mind whirled around with the possibilities. "How do we… _get_ _on_ the ceiling?"

He shrugged. "No clue. But you know I'm dying to find out."

She laughed nervously as the subway came to a slow stop, her eyes large and ablaze with curiosity. They walked down a row of brownstones, each as ordinary as the next, and stopped in front of one with curiously red bricks.

He waved his hand in front of her face as if wiping down a mirror and she got the hint that a glamour was in place. She closed her eyes and began stripping the layers in her mind. When she opened them again, she gasped. The brownstone was replaced by a tall cylindrical building, much like a castle tower, with a twirling black iron staircase on the side.

"Come on," he called, already halfway up the stairs. She ran to catch up, reaching for her hand to steady herself. The stairs looked like they might fall off the side of the building but she knew if she ran quickly enough, the unsteady rocking of the iron steps would stop soon enough. He was waiting for her on the last step, his hand extended to help her off.

He opened the red brick door and they walked inside casually. At first glance, there seemed to be a wooden floor as any other. She tripped over a beam and realized she was already on the roof. She looked up and found herself staring down at a half-empty café with white and red checkerboard tablecloths.

"Can they hear us?" she whispered but Jace just laughed and followed a waitress to the darkest corner of the roof. A table was waiting for them, reserved. She sat down before he could pull the chair out so he just sighed and gave up trying to be a gentleman. It was somewhat lost on her but she was smiling so he couldn't be too far off track.

They ordered the first pasta either saw and then the attention was back on the floor of the tower above. "Don't let me leave without ordering tea," he told her a few minutes after the waitress left. His head was tilted and he was focusing on a couple a few table across the ceiling who seemed to be permanently attached at the tongue.

"Hmm… Tea on the ceiling. Just don't suddenly burst into song."

"What are you going to do? Disown me?"

She laughed though it wasn't really funny to her. She was just happy that they could begin to joke about their previous circumstances. She was getting a little dizzy from looking up so she decided to look back down at her hands lying pale gray and limp on the table. She thought she was going to throw up.

Her unease didn't escape him. He'd chosen this little corner beforehand because he wanted it to be just them, two figures in the dark.

"What were you and Izzy talking about?" he asked sheepishly. It was strange seeing Jace uncertain about anything. It was like watching a lion ask permission before it ate someone.

"Sex," she answered bluntly, not in the mood to play coy. "She wanted to know about us."

He covered his eyes with his hand and groaned. Was he embarrassed? Openly?

"Did you tell her that we—"

"I told her the truth," she cut him off. She knew a joke was on the way, probably something perverted and tiresome and she wasn't in the mood. "She told me… well, she said you talked about it with her. A lot."

"Jealous?"

She shook her head. "I like that you have your family to talk to, Jace. I was just wondering why _we_ never talked about it."

He scoffed. "What do you want to know?" he said.

She gulped and fumbled with her hands. The waitress set down their pasta dishes and hurried away, seeing their faces and deciding instantly she didn't want to linger. "How, uh, many have there been?"

"Clary, I'm 17, not Hugh Hefner."

"Jace, I saw you flirt with a girl with four rows of razor sharp teeth! Are you honestly telling me you don't think with your dick?"

He smiled but it was forced. "You don't care how many came before, Clare, because I don't either and you know it."

"Stop avoiding the question, Jace. You're right. I don't care how many came before. I just want to know that you can be honest with me and _talk_ to me," she pleaded, leaning forward so she wouldn't have to raise her voice.

"Clary," he began, caressing her cheek so she knew his attention was fully on her. "I don't know what to do about us anymore."

Her eyes found his and a thousand insecurities popped up in her mind, clouding and overtaking her rational thoughts. Her heart was beating against her ribs, which didn't help her nausea.

When she said nothing, he continued, "I've never… I've never been in a relationship like this."

She relaxed a little. He was just being honest. He wasn't breaking up with her. Yet.

"You know that I've never been in love and I don't want to lose you but I have no idea what I'm doing here," he confessed, almost out of breath. He gripped her hand tighter so she knew he was serious and, what's more, seriously terrified. "I keep thinking that you're slipping away, a little bit more each day, and all I know to do is distance myself and give you your space. But I don't want that, Clary! I just want to be with you all the time."

He'd gotten a bit loud and a couple of fairies a few tables down hissed at him. Clary shot them an apologetic smile and turned back to Jace. She knew she had to speak soon but could think of nothing to reassure him. She could think of nothing to _say_ and so, decided that she would kiss him instead the way people do in the movies when they're having a romantic argument and want to prove their love.

She leaned across the small table, cupped his face with her hands, and pressed their lips together if only to stall. Then, it turned into a desperate need in her chest for more. He opened his mouth and welcomed the kiss further. It was a momentary instinct but he quickly pushed away.

"That's not what I want, Clary!" he hissed, raking his hair back with his hands. "This isn't about sex."

The blood was rushing to her head and she realized that whether it be obvious or not, she _was_ technically upside down. She took a slow look around and the room started to spin. Jace watched her cup her hand over her mouth as if preparing to barf. He threw down some money on the table and lifted her up by the waist, pulling her out the door. She barely made it outside but managed to throw up off the edge of the black staircase onto the alley below.

"NEVER bring me back there again," she growled, taking his hand to pull herself back up again. He rubbed her back soothingly and it seemed to help.

Another couple was laughing from below, passing them on the stairs. They took in her green expression and the fresh smell of vomit and grimaced. "Don't try the osso buco ravioli," warned Jace in jest. She had to stop at the base of the stairs to steady herself. She noticed Jace's hand was still on her waist, steadying her, and he had the most worried expression she'd ever seen. One would think that having a homicidal father after her would cause him more worry but no. Knife-wielding maniacs he could handle. A bad lunch was a bit harder to fight, especially for someone who didn't know the Mark for Pepto-Bismol.

They stopped at a bench near the bus stop and sat down. The sun was almost set and all the street lights had come on. "I'm sorry I ruined our dinner out," she groaned, resting her head on his shoulder. He stroked her hair absentmindedly, watching the trail of taxis and cars on their way home. "But if it means anything, I think we're going to be all right."

He looked down at her and smirked sadly. "How so?"

"Look at us, Jace," she said, her voice sweet as honey. "We take care of each other, not because we have to but because it's the only thing we know how to do."

He lowered his hand to her left shoulder and squeezed her closer. He was silent for some time, waiting for Clary's heart to slow down and her stomach to settle. "Two," he finally admitted. "There were two girls. Never meant a thing."

She smiled, despite the jealousy boiling in her veins. "Thank you for telling me."

"You? Don't tell me it was Simon."

She laughed, truly wholeheartedly for the first time all night. "Oh yes. He took me back to his dark lair, we watched _Inuyasha_, and he rocked my world all night long." She shook her head and honestly answered, "There was nobody before and there will be nobody after you, Jace."

That strangely made him feel better. "See? We can talk about sex. We can talk about anything."

She gulped because she knew that wasn't true. They couldn't talk about the real problems, about the things that tore them apart. After all they fought to finally be together, the sheer idea that something else might threaten all they've built – something so small yet so terrifying – was enough to make Clary throw up again. All over Jace's favorite pair of jeans.

-----

_Good? Bad? Ha ha? So so? Give me your wisdom, oh mighty ficters! I'm also looking for a beta. I should really start reading over these chapters myself though. Yikes. I apologize in advance. _

**Reviews are better than those little caresses that make it all better.**


	3. Something of a Mystery

**-----**

**CHAPTER THREE:  
**_Something of a Mystery_

-----

_Stop asking about the illness! If Clary doesn't know yet, I can't tell you either. You _will_ find something out at Magnus' so read on. Now, I must say this. Even though you guys are a much smaller following than Harry Potter, you really are better fans. I can't believe I reached 50 reviews in just two chapters! It's a personal record for a new story and I have you all to thank, especially _screamingHALLELUJAH _for being the 50__th__. Woot!_

This chapter's song:** Our Swords _by_ _Band of Horses._**

-----

The path back to the Institute was considerably shorter when one drifts in and out of consciousness. Clary calmed the nausea by closing her eyes and pretending she was in bed beside Jace like that night in Idris. They had other similar nights in Idris but as soon as they got back to the Institute, Maryse began her open door policy.

"Shh…" he whispered, caressing her hair back from her face. Maryse had cut it for her a few weeks ago so it barely reached her shoulders. He missed running his hands through it like he used to, splayed out on a blanket under the shade of a giant oak. "We're almost there."

He picked her up in arms and carried her the final block, up the elevator and to her room. Maryse was waiting for them near the door, tapping her foot impatiently. "Where the hell have you been?" she began to scold but Jace quickly shushed her.

He whispered, "She's asleep. She had kind of a bad night. She threw up a couple times."

"Is she going to be all right?" asked Maryse, watching him set her down on the edge of her bed and begin to remove her shoes. He nodded and brought the covers up to her chest. He went to retreat but Clary caught his arm, still asleep.

"Don't go," she mumbled, remembering that night last night before they came home when he'd crawled into bed beside her and told her he loved her.

Jace looked over to Maryse with an honest plea written in his eyes. "Can I?" he asked genuinely. "I won't do anything. I just don't want her to be alone in case—"

She raised an arm to silence him and pondered it for a moment. As much as she tried to avoid his puppy dog eyes, she eventually gave a resigned, "Fine! But the door stays open." Jace smiled and began to remove his pants. "What did I just say?!"

He pointed to the barf on his jeans and shrugged. "What can a guy do?"

"Shower, for one, but since she's asleep, I'll just bring you your pajamas. Okay? And if I hear any bedsprings bouncing in here, you can consider your weapons scrap metal."

Jace nodded, Clary's tiny fist still wrapped around a clump of his shirt. As soon as Maryse brought him his pants and he crawled in beside her, they were left alone and something started to bubble inside Jace. He knew she probably had no idea he was there, that she curled into him for his warmth and nothing else, but he was ridiculously turned on.

Barf smell aside, he hadn't seen her look this peaceful since Valentine died. He smoothed back the short hair and laid a soft kiss on her neck just to hear her moan in her sleep. She reached up and rested his arm around her waist. He took it was a sign to draw in closer until her tense shoulder blades dug into his chest.

"I'm sorry," she whispered in her sleep. "I'm so sorry, Simon."

He knew it didn't mean anything but he still flinched internally. What could she possibly be dreaming about here in his arms? He was so ecstatic to finally rest beside her without fear of rejection or discovery and she was dreaming about another guy?

"I'm sorry I lost the codes to Kingdom Hearts."

Jace had to bury his face in her neck to keep from laughing out loud. Feeling slightly better, he wrapped his arms tighter around her and fell asleep.

-----

Her unconscious mind had a way of playing tricks on her the deeper she fell into sleep. The happy, meaningless imagery of her childhood was often quickly replaced by the haunting images of her future, like flipping channels on a television. The dream had not changed since she left Idris, the details still vibrant. She stood on the edge of a great chasm surrounded by endless meadows of blue flowers the likes of which she'd never seen. She often dreamt of things she shouldn't know and places she'd never been but she didn't need to see it to know _this_ place was real.

She also didn't have to turn around to know Jace was coming up behind her. His fingers tangled with hers and she gasped. He was so cold, so far away yet so close.

"I'm scared," she whispered. "What if I can't reach you?"

They both stared down into the bottomless pit, looking for the answer to their problem. With a wind-like voice, he answered, "I'll find my way back to you, even if I have to grow wings."

With that, his hand evaporates from hers and she is suddenly staring down at his body, falling limp and lifeless down the chasm. She calls his name, too many times to count, but he does not answer. He is falling but all she can do is stand, too cowardly to dive in after him.

And every night, though she knows he's going to jump and she's going to mourn him for those few hours of uneasy rest, she does not stop him because a part of her knows he was dead before he ever fell.

-----

Clary snapped awake a little after dawn. She was still horribly tired but she knew no amount of sleep would fix that. She went to sit up when she noticed a weight around her waist. She carefully turned back and saw Jace nuzzled into her hair. He groaned awake and propped himself up onto his elbow to get a better look at her face.

"Good morning," she whispered, kissing his jaw lightly. She was aiming for his lips, which was another bad sign that her vision was getting worse. "To what do I owe the special morning surprise?"

He laughed and went to kiss her before remembering the vomit. "Sorry. I'll leave then," he joked. He went to pull the covers off when she tugged on his collar sheepishly.

"No," she said with a groan. "Don't go. I just don't want you to get in trouble over me."

He shrugged and nodded towards the open door. "Maryse let me stay since you were feeling so sick. I promised her I'd play the happy eunuch for the night."

"It's morning," she reminded.

He smirked devilishly. "So it is."

His hand moved from her waist down her abdomen towards her outer thigh. He bent down to kiss her neck again but she flinched and he found himself stopping. "I'm sorry, Jace. I'm still vomity fresh from last night so uhm, I should probably just go take a shower."

"I could join you," he quietly suggested, sitting up in bed. She could see the hurt in his eyes, in the way he slumped his shoulders.

She shook her head, unable to tell him no. A moment of silence passed and Clary sat up beside him, hugging her knees. She hated how he stared out into the room, his lips set in a sad frown.

"Clary, did I do something to—" he began.

"No!" she snapped. "No no… It's not y—"

He turned his head quickly. "It's not you, it's me? Was that what you were going to say?"

The pain and dissolution in his voice turned to anger. She wished she had her usual strength so she could pin him down on the bed and prove how much she wanted him but there was no fixing her yet.

"I didn't mean it that way and you know it. I'm just… I'm just not ready for that yet," she lied. She trusted Jace with all her heart. Once you sleep next to someone night after night, when you start to crave their touch every hour you're apart, you're more or less ready. She'd wanted him for months. But she had to lie if she was going to spare him the details of her illness.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked timidly. She hated Timid Jace. She hated him as much as she hated Pain-In-The-Ass Jace, though he hadn't made an appearance in weeks.

She faked a smile and smoothed his hair back from his eyes the way he'd done to her the night before. "I love you," she whispered, resting her chin on his strong shoulder.

His face lit up as usual. He never tired of hearing that so he just sighed and kissed her forehead. "And that's enough, I guess. I'm sorry. I'll stop being a jerk about it."

At that, she laughed hysterically because she knew he would never stop being a jerk. "That'll be the day." Locating that final bit of energy she needed, she jumped out of bed and shut the bathroom door behind her. "I'll be out soon!"

He didn't wait for her, finding himself in need of his own cold shower. When he returned, she was gone. She left a note on his bed but he didn't bother reading it. He knew what it said, that she'd gone off somewhere and would be back soon. No matter what was going on, she'd always come back. This, he blindly believed. In the meantime, he went in search of something to stab.

-----

"Alec, slow down!" Clary shouted, pulling her arm away. "What's the big hurry?"

He ran up the steps to Magnus' front door and opened with his very own key. Clary tried not to smirk but it was such so strange to see Alec _giddy_. The loft was a dead dark but she could see something moving around in the shadows. Alec gave a dark mass near the bar a little nudge with his foot and commanded, "Go wake him up?"

A lazy hiss came from the mass and Chairman Meow was slowly on his way upstairs. But, before he could even make it up the steps, the tall, multi-colored Magnus lifted him up into his arms like a baby and bent down to kiss Alec lightly on the lips.

"I'm awake. I'm awake," he droned and crashed down onto the couch with the Chairman in his arms. "What's going on?"

"We have a little problem," said Alec.

Magnus opened a single eye and looked him up and down as though looking for a gaping hole somewhere. "You okay?"

"It's not me. It's Clary."

Magnus closed his eyes again and tried to use the Chairman as a pillow before it screeched away, back towards the bar. Clary was almost positive that was rum, not water, in his little bowl.

"It's serious," added Alec, slapping Magnus' thigh. "You know I wouldn't bother you if it wasn't serious."

Magnus scoffed dramatically. "Ha! You'd come knocking if you had a paper cut and you know it. Hell, you'd _fake_ a paper cut just to see me."

"Maybe," he replied playfully. "But that's not the issue. Remember how I told you something was wrong between Clary and Jace?"

Magnus nodded. "Yea, Jace was sad 'cause he wasn't getting any or something."

Clary went scarlet red all over. "He's still not getting any, thank you very much," she muttered under her breath.

"Something's wrong, Mag. She's—"

Clary stepped forward and finished for herself. "There's something wrong with me."

Magnus got the severity of the situation from her tone. He'd heard it before from her, usually after Jace had just finished doing something incredibly dangerous and stupid and she needed Magnus to put him back together.

He sat up and leaned forward onto his knees. "What's the deal?"

"I don't know," she answered, "but Runes aren't fixing it and come dark I'm so drained that I can barely walk. There's something wrong and I can't ignore it anymore."

He pointed towards the loveseat in the corner and snapped his fingers to turn on the floor lamp behind it. She sat down and waited as Magnus looked her over. "You're bleeding," he told her a long minute later.

Clary looked down but she couldn't see it. "No I'm not."

He nodded. "Not blood. You're bleeding energy."

She laughed softly, despite Magnus' unsympathetic face. "What, you've got a scanner shoved up your ass that you can tell this from across the room?"

He didn't seem particularly amused and continued to stare at her with crossed arms, searching his mind for an answer. Alec, who stood with his hands lamely in his pockets nearby, answered for him, "Warlocks' magic works off energy, Clary. He can borrow the energy of others to supplement his own so yea, it would make sense that he'd have a scanner up his ass."

Magnus smirked at him for a quick second and turned back to Clary. "He's right and you're way off, love. Well, you and Jace always have that angel juice going but you are seriously running on empty."

"How do we fix it?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. I've never seen someone like this, not without any serious injury. Either someone's stealing it from you, which I doubt considering you live at the Institute, or your body's fighting off something."

"Like?"

"Sorry but the scanner up my ass only goes so far. I can look into it with some witch doctors I know. Those guys are into all sorts of seedy shit like this. They might know what's up with you but you're right. There's definitely something wrong. You're something of a mystery, Ms. Fray."

She groaned and hid her face in her cupped hands. "How am I supposed to train with Jace when I can't see straight?"

Magnus and Alec looked at each other, sharing a piteous look. "Can you cover up her scars at least?" he asked Magnus. "The Marks haven't been healing. At all."

"Physical injuries! Yes! Of course. I can also try to conjure up an amulet to strengthen you up but if Marks haven't helped, I'm sure any amulet would run out of energy after a couple of hours, if that."

It didn't matter. She wanted any little bit of help she could find to be at her best for Jace. She took off her flimsy sweater and showed him her left arm. Both of them winced though it didn't hurt nearly as bad as it looked. She'd become numb over the last week, another one of those little things she knew were going to come back to haunt her later. "Go ahead," she urged. "It's just a flesh wound."

Magnus scoffed, preparing himself for a long day of healing. "And World War II was just a little scuffle."

-----

Jace spent the afternoon walking the streets of New York. There was no space to think at the Institute. Every statue, every book, every bit of carved wood made him long for Clary. He knew it wasn't healthy to fixate on someone so much but from the moment she walked into Pandemonium that night, he could think of no one else.

This is why when the only person he ever cared about starts distancing herself bit by bit, he automatically freaks out.

He wasn't precisely looking for trouble but, being him, it was hard not to find it. But, for once, he ignored the unoffending werewolves and continued on his walk. His subconscious had already decided where he would go for answers.

He stopped before the entrance to Central Park and, with a determined sigh for courage, continued on his dangerous path.

-----

Clary scratched at her arm. Though her scars had been perfectly covered by what she could only imagine was a glamour. She tried to see if she could scrape it off but nothing. She was safe. She skipped the sweaters and donned the first skimpy tank top and plaid skirt she could find. Though not entirely at her best, she searched the halls for Jace with a silly grin on her face.

She came upon the library and found Robert Lightwood sitting at his desk, an eyebrow raised at a passage in the _Chronicles of Prydain_. "Afternoon, sir," she greeted, always careful to be polite around him. Silent men made her nervous.

"Afternoon, Clary," he responded, not lifting his eyes for a second. She was always glad to see that her presence at the Institute was so easily accepted. She was worried it would get awkward but after the first week, they just saw her as an extension of Jace's arm.

"Would you happen to know where Jace went, sir?"

Robert shrugged and, as though suddenly remembering, answered, "I think he went hunting, dear. Why don't you ask Isabelle? I think I saw them talking over breakfast before."

She thanked him and went in search of Izzy. She found her still sitting in the kitchen, hovering over a large coffee cup and talking, seemingly, to herself. "You all right there, Iz?"

Izzy snapped out of her thoughts and turned to Clary, scanning her outfit. "Someone's looking for action."

"Is it obvious?" asked Clary, looking down at her green top and matching gray skirt.

"No no. It's very Catholic schoolgirl. He'll love it."

Clary smirked, proud to have Isabelle's approval. "Know where he's gone?"

Just then, a loud knock came at the Institute's door. It seemed desperate and hurried so both girls ran to see who it was. The worst ran through Clary's mind. Last time, it had been Raphael with Simon's half-dead body in his arms. This time, it was Meliorn with a very similar expression of impending doom.

Isabelle tensed, her eyes wide. "Mel?" she breathed, holding her heart.

"I'm sorry but you need all need to hurry to the Seelie Court," he announced, barely noticing Isabelle though that wasn't very different than usual. Clary never understood Isabelle's need for trouble.

"Do we look stupid?" asked Clary, looking down again and regretting her statement. "Why should we?"

Isabelle seemed to know without Meliorn speaking a word. "It's Jace, isn't it?"

Clary gasped and reached for the door to steady herself. Meliorn didn't have to answer. She could already feel Jace falling away from her into a deep chasm, his angel wings clipped and bloodied.

"I shouldn't be here but you needed to know. He's asked a favor from the Queen."

Isabelle gulped. "What did he ask? What did she want in return?"

"He wanted the truth. She didn't need to trick him. The truth nearly killed him. If you don't come before sunset, he'll be trapped forever."

Clary felt worse than last night because she knew this was her fault. The truth was hers to give and no one else and no amount of self-pity was going to bring him back.

-----

_And the plot thickens! Muahaha! _

_I wrote something called "Behind Closed Doors." It's a ridiculously long one-shot featuring Magnus and Alec and it's the __**dirtiest, sexiest piece of filthy smut I've ever written**__. It's strictly for mature audiences so follow the link on my profile for my __**LiveJournal**__ post. Anyone can comment there so please do. You know I'm a review whore. They make excellent birthday presents, since I'm turning 19 today. Hells yea!_

**Reviews are better than Catholic schoolgirl outfits… I should know. **


	4. Ultimatums in the Seelie Court

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**CHAPTER FOUR:  
**_Ultimatums in the Seelie Court_

-----

_This story was sort of impromptu, being my first TMI story and everything, so the plot is a little less planned than my Harry Potter works, but you can bet Jace is going to get dangerous. He's going to get dangerous and angry and witty and you're going to love it. I promise. I'm not sure if I captured the Seelie Queen though. I can't remember how she spoke and was too lazy to look it up in the books but I don't think it's too obvious a difference or really that important to the plot. _

_And again, thank you all soooo much for all your lovely reviews, birthday wishes, and wonderful critiques. It's fans like you who make us better writers. _

This chapter's song:** Marching Bands of Manhattan _by_ _Death Cab for Cutie._**

-----

Suddenly, no amount of amulets could keep Clary steady and upright. She gave out a jagged breath and slid down the frame of the door onto her knees. The impact of bone on hardwood echoed through the Institute, calling Alec and Magnus to attention in the distance.

"Clary?" whispered Isabelle by her side, her hand gently on the poor girl's shoulder. "Come on now. He'll be fine, I'm sure, but we have to _go_."

Clary shook her head, gripping the frame tighter. "I can't go, Iz."

"What?!" shouted Isabelle and Meliorn.

She locked her jaw to keep from crying but it got painful quickly. "I'm sorry," she said, a dozen more times in her head. "But I can't go. They'll just use me to hurt him even more. He can't know. He can't see me."

Footsteps came up behind them. Alec pulled Isabelle away from Clary's crouching figure and knelt down in her place. Magnus gave Meliorn a nod hello but the faerie did not so much as blink in return.

"Alec, you can't just let her—"

He snapped to face her and the ferocity in his eyes made her step back at once. "Izzy, get your whip," he commanded forcefully. She went to complain but stopped herself. That look on Alec, that fear masked by a ruthless sense of duty to his family, told Iz everything she needed to know. She nodded and ran to the weapons room for their things. Meliorn followed, though nobody neither noticed nor cared, except Iz.

"I love it when he gets that look," said Magnus with a large grin, completely unaffected by the situation. "It's usually followed by 'Take off your pants' and several hours of screaming."

Clary didn't register the joke though she did notice the red marks on Alec's neck from his proximity.

"What if he doesn't make it, Alec?" she asked, gripping his arm but still unable to stand. Alec and Magnus seemed to be sharing a look because Magnus' humor died immediately. Something told her it was more serious than she imagined.

"He'll be fine," he lied halfheartedly. Apparently, Alec didn't have the ability to multi-task emotions because he couldn't hide his worry at all. It made her wonder if he was just a better person than her. "We're going to bring him back to you. I promise."

She still didn't believe him but Magnus obviously did.

-----

"This is wrong," said Isabelle for the first time since they left, trailing behind on the way to Central Park. They could see the godforsaken pond in the distance. "She should be here instead on sitting on her ass by the window with her damn sketchbook."

Magnus slid his hand into Alec's back pocket as they walked, bringing him closer. "She has her reasons, Isabelle. Let her be," he said.

Izzy scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous! All the times she's—"

"She. Has. Her. Reasons," growled Alec through gritted teeth.

"And you know these reasons?" she replied, unfazed.

Meliorn looked back at her for a second and she stopped talking again. He didn't have the same murderous stare Alec seemed to don but somehow, it was more effective. Magnus raised a carefully groomed eyebrow and looked from Meliorn to Isabelle and back down to Alec.

He leaned down, pretending to kiss Alec's cheek, and whispered, "Are those two—"

Alec gave a surreptitious nod but it wouldn't have mattered. With a single look, Meliorn had captured Isabelle's attention for the rest of the walk. Magnus was very curious about this particular ability.

-----

Clary knew she was tearing apart inside. She thought about calling her mother but realized she was still back in Idris with Luke. She found her sketchbook waiting for her on the window lattice but couldn't imagine steadying her hand long enough to draw.

Instead, she brought the sketchbook to her chest and hugged it tightly. She walked over to the bed and lied down atop the sheets, curled up on her side. She looked at the window but the city was drowning in oranges and reds. Her pen could never do it justice.

She closed her eyes but all she saw was the city… _a_ city. She looked out into her mind and imagined herself sitting by her window in Idris, watching over the demon towers. She imagined Jace walking to her from across the street, his blonde hair glowing in the bright moonlight. It calmed her enough. She imagined he'd walk into the room and his warm body would sink into bed beside her, the weight of his arm around her waist like the night before.

Then, she remembered the Seelie Court and its every gruesome little section of Hell. She remembered dancing. She'd never danced with Jace, not even in Idris. She wondered if he even danced at all. She wondered why something so otherwise insignificant was so important now that he was gone.

When she opened her eyes again, unsure of how much time had passed, the Institute was still deathly quiet. She knew when they returned, the sounds would echo the halls. She looked down at the sketchpad, her pen lying on the edge of the paper.

She snapped up and ran her fingers over the drawing. She didn't remember drawing it before, didn't remember moving her pen at all. The page had been blank when she'd closed her eyes. Now, a city stared back at her with great twinkling lights. If she looked close enough, long enough, it was almost as though the demon towers were calling her into the ink.

-----

Jace clung to his chains on the wall, his hair falling down over his eyes. It stuck to his forehead.

"We had a deal, boy," said the queen, running her long fingers over the ribs of one of her subjects. It made a strange screeching sound like nails on chalkboard.

"She'll come," he whispered to himself, tasting the blood on his lips. Every join in his body hurt like he'd survived an earthquake.

The queen laughed dryly, quickly getting bored. "She is connected to another. I have told you time and time again."

"Pardon me if I don't take your word for it, you cow."

The queen scoffed and, with a snap of her fingers, tightened the chains on his arms. He groaned but didn't struggle. There was no point in struggling anymore. All he could do was wait.

Time passed though he didn't know how much. Every second felt like forever. New sounds filled the Court but he didn't hear her footsteps – that light shuffle he'd love to hear through the Institute late at night – and didn't bother lift his tired head.

He heard a gasp and the voices got louder. He recognized two of them but he still didn't look up because Clary wasn't among them.

"What have you done to him?!" screamed Isabelle, struggling to escape Meliorn's arms. He knew if she made it to Jace, she'd be trapped too and, as much as he wanted her to join him, he cared too much to trap her. He had decided this some time ago and would never go back on his word. It was why he never spoke. If she knew the truth, who knows what she stupid stunt she might pull in the name of a childish love. All he had to do was look at Jace, tied up to the wall behind the queen's throne to know the stupid things these Nephilim did.

"He did this to himself," she said. "I simply made him a deal."

Alec laughed. All courtesy flies out the window when creepy faerie people tie up and torture your friend. "He knows better than to deal with the likes of you."

"Does he?" laughed the queen. "You of all people know what runs through the minds of young men in love. They are desperate, insecure little creatures. I simply—"

"Feed off it?" finished Magnus coolly with his hands in his pockets.

The queen pretended to be offended but it was obvious she was anything but. "Help them discover the truth."

"What truth?" cried Isabelle. "He loves her. She loves him. What more could they possibly need?"

Meliorn laughed and let her go. "You silly child."

She reached up and slapped him. "This isn't about us! Why are you just standing there? Free him!"

He didn't even flinch at the slap. "My duty is to my queen, Isabelle, not my occasional playthings. Remember your place in this court."

She stared up at him in disbelief, tears flowing from her eyes. She wiped them away, smearing her hands with mascara. She turned to Jace's lowered head and called out, "Jace! Remember what you said this morning? She brought you back to life, Jace! Twice! No matter what happens, you love each other!"

"Forget it, Iz," warned Magnus, taking a step forward. "If you want to free him, you simply need to ask."

Alec stood beside him and demanded, "What is it going to take to free our friend?"

The queen looked around the room, trying to find something else to inflict pain with. There was nothing. "I'm afraid he's all mine, dear. You see, he's made a deal. He was so sure his dear Clarissa would come. Since she hasn't, I win and he joins my court. And what a beautiful addition he is!"

Her shrill voice echoed the court. "Take me in his place!" shouted Isabelle, staring at Meliorn.

He shook his head. "You're only proving me right, Isabelle."

The queen raised a hand and the entire court silenced. "No no, Meliorn. I accept her request. I will let you all go for now but only if you bring me back a present."

Magnus rolled his eyes but Alec only tensed. "She's not going to make this easy," whispered Magnus in a sing-song voice, balancing on the balls of his feet.

She snapped her fingers and a skeletal court jester danced towards her. He bowed low to the ground and the queen pulled a knife from his spine. The jester fell apart at her feet. She extended the knife out to Meliorn, who fetched it like a good subject. He sauntered towards Jace's limp body and cut him out of the chains. They both fell down onto their knees.

Meliorn slipped the knife into Jace's belt and whispered in his ear, "Take care of them as they care for you, you undeserving primate."

Alec and the others ran to help him to his feet but Jace had no idea where he was anymore or even if he was still alive. His arms were numb and the floor was moving quickly beneath his dragging feet. The only thing he knew to be real was the weight of the jester's knife on his belt.

"What present?" asked Alec as they headed out the court.

The queen squealed with excitement and stood up to see them off. "All I desire is blood, my dear Jace. The blood of the other boy."

"I won't kill in your name," groaned Jace, finding the strength to stand on his own two feet. The longer he concentrated on the knife on his belt, the easier reality got. He couldn't use the memory of Clary to ground him anymore. It'd somehow been tainted by her betrayal.

"Oh no," she said with a laugh. "Her body betrays her, Jace. Remember that. "

"Don't listen, Jace," warned Alec, starting to pull him out the entrance. "Come on. Clary's waiting back at the Institute."

"You have until the next full moon!" called the queen, laughing with her court.

-----

Though she knew her body rested at the Institute, her mind happily glided over the city of ink. It looked as though a great sadness had swallowed the city, enveloping it in dripping black lines. She realized then it was her own tears smearing the picture. She awoke at the sound of knocking on her door.

"Clary, are you awake?" whispered Maryse Lightwood, treading lightly into the room.

Clary sat up reluctantly and closed her sketchpad, bringing it up to her chest instinctively. She didn't want Maryse to see the evidence of her weary heart. "I'm awake, Mrs. Lightwood. Please come in."

Maryse fumbled with her hands in her lap like a little girl about to ask her parents what those squeaking noises coming from their room at night really were. "Clary, is something going on with you and Jace I should know?"

Clary shrugged. "I don't know what you mean," she lied. She knew exactly what Maryse meant.

"Now, I tried to give him his space because it's been quiet around here and that's great and all. I even let him spend the night. I didn't question what he was doing up at 6am every morning in the training room. I didn't question it because I thought you were both happy but that's not it at all, is it?"

Clary gulped and carefully let her hair fall onto the sides of her face so Maryse couldn't see her expression in the faint lamp light.

"Clary, he and the others have been gone all day. I know compared to your mother, I must seem like I don't care but I do and Jace is my son and I need to know."

That brought a tiny smile to her face to know Jace was loved. Of course he was loved. Why didn't he see the same love in her? Why did he have to make things so bloody complicated?

"I love your son very much, Mrs. Lightwood. That's all you need to know."

Maryse wasn't at all convinced and went to object when the Institute doors were blasted open below and Alec began shouting instructions to Izzy and Magnus. Maryse automatically ran to meet them downstairs but Clary could barely get out of bed. She looked down at the shell-shaped amulet around her neck. It had been turned completely black. When she reached up to hold it, she realized her hand was stained with ink.

Her eyes began to gloss over again and she went in search of help and news. She stumbled slowly towards the elevator and headed to the first floor. She hugged the sketchbook closer to her chest and it seemed to give her strength. She didn't want to feel her heartbeat anymore. It was too loud and the Institute too silent. The closer she got to the first floor, the louder the voices downstairs got and she was suddenly bolted back into reality.

"There she is!" sounded Magnus, going to hold her hand to steady her. It seemed more as a gesture to get her to Jace as quickly as possible. The urgency in his cat eyes begged her to hurry. When she saw Jace sitting on the wooden bench near the entryway, she saw why. He had cuts all over his bare chest, ankles, and wrists. He shook all over, staring off at the wooden floor.

Maryse saw the tension in the room and quietly announced, "I'll go get some towels or something."

"Jace?" Clary whispered, carefully dragging closer. She knelt down before him and reached up to caress his tattered face. His once beautiful cheekbones were soot-stained as though burned very slowly and his eyes were enveloped in shadow. She'd seen this darkness before. Not lately but it was once all she saw.

"Don't touch me," he growled quietly, his eyes shooting up to hers through his eyelashes. She winced and quickly stood, taking a step back.

Isabelle went to stand by his side, her arms crossed. "Do you have any idea what you've done?" she scolded. "He could have died!"

"I don't—I didn't mean—"

"For him to find out? Was that what you were going to say?"

Alec and Magnus came up behind her. "We're sorry, Jace," said Alec, raking his hands through his hair.

Jace stood too quickly for their eyes to follow, his nostrils flaring. "You knew?" he said through raspy gasps. His numb body was beginning to melt. Though they'd taken care of some of the wounds with iratzes, the pain in his heart was poisoning his whole body in undulating waves. He breathed as though somebody was sitting on his chest.

His hands formed fists by his side and Clary stepped back into Alec and Magnus. Magnus surreptitiously put a hand on the base of her spine should he fall. Nobody, not even Clary, noticed.

"It's not what you think, Jace."

She gripped the edges of the sketchbook tighter, genuinely terrified of what he might do to her. She knew he would never physically hurt her. He had never so much as raised a hand at her. But Jace was a master at hitting people where it really hurt: the heart.

"Do you love me?" he asked, his words carefully chosen through gritted teeth.

She couldn't read his eyes. It was as though she were looking at a mannequin. "How can you ask me that? How many times have I told you? Why is it so hard for you to believe anyone could love you?"

"YOU DIDN'T ANSWER THE QUESTION!" he shouted. Both their chests heaved, adrenaline making her hands twitch.

"Yes! I love you! I love you more than anything!"

His eyes softened but the menace was still there. "Then tell me his name."

Clary's shoulders relaxed. "Whose name?"

"Just tell him, Clary," warned Isabelle behind him, shooting daggers at her with her eyes. "Tell him who you've been seeing."

Clary laughed, despite herself. "Seeing? Seeing where? You think I'm—You think I'm cheating on you? That was the big truth Meliorn told us about?"

Isabelle nodded as Jace continued to stare at her, smelling like pond water and blood. "It doesn't matter," he said. "I put my life on the line, my whole life, on the belief that you'd come for me. You _always_ came for me. And now, no matter what you say, I can't look at you without thinking who else you've said these words too. It doesn't matter because… I don't love _you_."

At this, everyone turned to face Jace but Clary was hardly shocked. She'd been expecting worse. She could see it in his eyes that he was holding back everything he felt, for her sake no doubt. It's how she knew he still cared. "What?" laughed Isabelle, unable to see the hidden message in his eyes. "You don't mean that, Jace."

"I don't ever want to see you again," he whispered, his voice breaking though Clary could see no sign of tears. "I can't even look at you anymore, Clare!"

Alec took hold of Clary's shoulder forcibly to keep her standing. He could see her knees begin to weaken.

Magnus was paying much too close attention to her amulet. "Look," he finally spoke. "Clary can stay with me for the night until this whole thing dies down."

Alec snapped to face Magnus. Something was playing in the warlock's eyes. Alec knew he would never willingly lend his loft to anyone, especially not a Shadowhunter. He'd only ever done it before to win Alec's favor but this was very different. This was done out of fear, out of the need to observe and control whatever was taking hold of Clary's life. Alec realized he had no other choice but to agree.

Even Clary knew she was useless here. She knew Jace would never change his mind, no matter what she said or did or didn't do. He was hurt but he also didn't want to believe her. He wanted her to be a cheater, a liar, a manipulator… If she was, maybe he didn't have to constantly feel like he had to make it up to her for bringing him back to life back in Idris. Maybe this huge weight could be lifted off his shoulders and he could begin to see her as human, not angel. Maybe he wouldn't have to feel like he was the madman's wooden toy trying to play house.

So, Clary went without any objections, furthering his cause and his distrust. She kept her eyes on him as Maryse draped a warm towel over his shoulders, even as they dragged him upstairs to be healed. She watched until the Institute doors were closed on her, and she was finally allowed to collapse under the weight of her heart.

-----

_This was another one of those scenes flying around in my head. You see the City of Ink (it's going to be important, obviously) and a little bit more about Meliorn and Izzy and the real truth which is not so much that Clary is sick but rather _why_ she is sick. Only the queen could turn it into something sexual. Heh. But I hope you liked it and I hope you didn't get too disappointed in Jace. It's not his fault he's an idiot in love._

**Reviews are better than that commanding look Alec gets. **


	5. Separation Anxiety

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**CHAPTER FIVE:  
**_Separation Anxiety_

-----

_You're all amazing. Seriously. 100 reviews and counting after only four chapters. You guys all deserve freakin' Ferraris. But, since I'm a penniless writer, I bring you a chapter instead. Keep it up! Oh and the part about her being a distant doll comes from the epilogue of City of Glass where he comments on her fancy dress. It's one of my favorite scenes. Enjoy!_

This chapter's song: **Yesterday _by_ _John Lennon/The Beatles._**

-----

The cliff was there. Jace was there. But she felt something else, something lingering in the darker parts of her mind. This was a dream but it didn't feel like a dream. It felt like a memory or, better yet, a premonition. She reached out for Jace's hand but it didn't feel real. She knew she was asleep somewhere – in a ditch for all anyone cared.

"Jace?" she whispered into the darkness. He had yet to fall but she could feel it looming at any moment. She knew if she blinked, if she breathed, he would be gone. She didn't turn to face him but she knew he was there, this blond figure in the corner of her eye smiling at her.

"I'm sorry, Clary," he said. "I wish you didn't have to suffer with me."

She couldn't help her mouth. It moved for her as though the dream was something concrete and irreparable. "I couldn't live with myself if I knew you were in pain and did nothing to stop it."

"Why should you care? I let you suffer too. I watched for months knowing something was wrong but was too caught up in my own doubts to trust you. I love you, Clary. I'll always love you." She couldn't see Jace's lips move but it was his voice. She knew it anywhere. It enveloped her, making her chest cave in with warmth and pleasure and the strangest feeling that everything would be better _somehow_.

"But you're not real," she finally said of her own volition, pulling her hand from his. "You're just a figment of my imagination. You can't love. You can't feel. You never could."

She finally snapped out of her trance, stepping out of the concrete, and turned to face him. The hair was the same blond and silky and long, and the elusive planes of his face were still elusive but she noticed for the first time the darkness of his eyes. Black, like coal. Like the bottomless pit by their feet.

And she knew she had to wake or risk being lost to the darkness forever.

-----

"You know," said Magnus in a low voice, an eyebrow raised. "I don't think I've ever had a girl in my bed before."

Alec's eyes shot up off Clary's limp body to the warlock towering anxiously over him. "Seriously? In over 300 years?"

Magnus shrugged. "I usually made them sleep on the couch and I don't think any of them were even remotely human."

Alec rolled his eyes. "Well, I suppose that's comforting… in a way."

"Yea, for you. I'm still wondering when you'll leave me for a ditzy blonde in 38Ds." They both grimaced and shook the image out of their heads. "Sorry. That was uncalled for."

Clary chuckled softly and tried to sit up, her eyes still closed. She had two amulets the size of moon rocks around her neck and it still felt like gravity was trying to impale her into the bed. "You two sound like an old married couple sometimes. Did you know that?" she mumbled, holding her head. There was no humor in her voice and her eyes were puffy like she'd been crying for hours instead of sleeping.

"You gave us a scare there, kiddo. We thought you'd gone off to the happy demon-hunting ground in the sky," said Magnus, going to sit on the other side of the bed.

She reached up to wipe away a tear but she wasn't crying. She had been in her dreams but not here. This was a strange sanctuary. "I think it's pretty obvious by now that I'm not cut out to fight demons."

Alec and Magnus shot each other a worried look. "Don't talk like that. You're just having a fight. He'll get over it and you'll be back in the Institute in no time, kicking trans-dimensional ass like a pro."

She scoffed. "When has Jace ever gotten over anything?"

"True," the boys answered in unison.

She tried to get out of bed, trying to get rid of the tingly feeling in her legs, but found herself crashing face first into the plush, purple carpet. "Have you heard from him?" she grumbled into the fibers. Alec bent down to help her stand but it took both of them to get her off the ground. "Did they heal him okay?"

"He's just fine. Don't worry about him. Alec made sure he was okay before he followed us," he lied. They had no idea if Jace was okay and they couldn't care less. The others hadn't seen her collapse outside the Institute. They hadn't seen her eyes roll back into her head and her pulse slow till almost nonexistent. Jace had been alive the last time they saw him. Clary could go at any moment.

"Clary, I think we should tell them what's wrong with you," said Alec softly. "If Magnus was sick, I'd want to know even if I couldn't do anything about it."

"Ditto for me. Only you'd bet I'd try anything before I gave up."

"That's the problem," she replied in a husky voice, her throat dry. "I know Jace. I know he loves me and I know he'd make a deal with the Devil himself to keep me alive. And that's just it, Alec. I'd rather die myself than put him through that. I'd rather he hate me than mourn me."

Magnus went in search of a glass of water as Alec tried to help her back onto the bed. "Shit, Clary. If you know he loves you, you know he'll continue to love you even after you push him away."

Magnus shushed him from the kitchen. "Don't tell her that!" he hissed, running in. "Girl's got enough on her head to worry about. We don't want her thinking she's fucking up the only good thing she's ever had. That would just be cruelly realistic."

Clary and Alec both shot him deathly looks through squinted eyes. "You asshole."

Magnus grinned and handed Clary the plain, clear glass. "Don't spill that or I'll melt you into the couch and give the remote to Chairman Meow."

"Is he still addicted to Battlestar Galactica?" joked Alec, trying to change the subject. Humor seemed to liven her spirits.

He nodded. "He's going through withdrawal symptoms now that the new season's not starting for another month. Poor thing twitches in his sleep."

Clary smiled despite herself and rested back on the headboard, looking up at the strange tin ceiling. All they could do now was wait. Clary was waiting to die. Alec and Magnus were waiting for her to give them permission to alert Jace. And Jace was waiting somewhere for her to beg forgiveness, something she would never do.

"Where's my sketchbook?" she whispered some time later. "I remember I had it with me when I fell. Can I please have it?"

Magnus nodded and handed it to her, the pity back in his cat eyes. "Stay as long as you need, Clary. I'm going speak to those doctors I was telling you about. Alec is going to stay here with you. Try to sleep."

But none of it entered her mind. As soon as she saw that sketchbook and pen, her mind was a distant second to her hands. She flipped open the pages and started drawing for hours. She didn't get up. She didn't eat. She barely blinked. Her eyes watered over, smearing the ink, but she didn't stop.

She drew buildings, drew silhouettes, drew landscapes, drew corner upon corner of the city… but it didn't matter. It wasn't enough. She drew because she was looking for someone, a shadow too quick for her mind's eyes. But she didn't need to look because it always knew where she was, even when she couldn't see it.

It knew because it was tied to her. As it grew, she withered. After all, she was the only way it would ever leave the city of ink.

-----

"You're a bitch, Iz," growled Jace as she disinfected his wounds. "Just use the damn iratze!"

She laughed. "Draw it yourself, you ass. Oh wait! You can't, because you punched a hole in my wall and broke all your fucking fingers!"

"I've still got two legs and I can kick the shit out of you. Fix me up!"

She rolled her eyes and pulled out her stele. "Fine!" she shouted, practically stabbing it into his flesh. "But you better believe this is the last time I patch you up, Jace Wayland. This is the last time I fight by your side and the last time I forgive you for one of your crazy stunts. You're such a fragile, stupid idiot! Yes, Clary was wrong to stay behind but did you ever think she had her reasons?"

"Are you seriously taking her side?" he spat back, outraged. "You were just yelling at her two minutes ago!"

"She deserved it and so do you." She crossed her arms and, after fixing his knuckles, sat back and watched him wrap himself up on the corner of her bed. He looked funny sitting all erect on the very edge of the bed. Even if he was pissed off at Clary and Isabelle was like a sister to him, he still felt like he was cheating by being in another girl's bed.

A moment passed and he seemed to calm down. His shoulders hunched and, barely able to move, he leaned forward onto his knees for balance. "Did she—" he began but quickly stopped himself.

Izzy raised an eyebrow and crossed her legs, leaning back in her chair. "She's hiding something but you know she's not cheating on you, Jace."

His eyes flew to her. Her voice was so sure. "But you said—"

"It doesn't matter what _I_ said or what _I_ believe! I can see it in your eyes. You don't believe for a second that she's seeing someone else. When would she? You saw the way she reacted when I told her what the queen said."

He buried his face in his bandaged hands and winced. "I can't look at her, Iz. Every time I do, I just think I'm looking at this doll that talks and walks and feels real but it's not my Clary. Something's going on. I know it is. And until I figure it out, I just can't bear to look at this reminder of what I lost."

Isabelle didn't say anything, though she wanted to. She couldn't bring herself to feed into his delusions.

"I do love her," he said after some time of stillness.

"That," she replied through gritted teeth, "is yet to be proven."

She stood up and snatched her jacket off the back of her chair. "Where are you going? Isabelle!?" he called after her, unable to follow in his weakened condition. "Women are going to be the end of me!"

He lied back in bed, careful not to aggravate his wounds, and tried to close his eyes. Though his mind was a bustle of thoughts and regrets, his body was too tired and he fell asleep.

-----

Two hours passed before he felt a hand gently nudge him awake. He sat up, not bothering to open his eyes. He could smell Magnus' cologne all over Alec's favorite pair of black leather pants. "Alec, you smell like a Thai brothel in mid-day sun," he groaned, testing to see if he could open and close his hand without problem. It hurt like hell but he could do it. In reality, he was doing everything possible not to look Alec in the face.

"Aren't you going to ask me how she's doing?" Alec said through gritted teeth, taking a few steps back.

"Not you too! I'm the one that gets beat up and you're all taking her side? She cheated on me, Alec!"

Alec scoffed and pushed Jace back on the bed. Something told Jace he was almost punched out. "You listen, you idiot! She didn't cheat on you! Stop making excuses! And I know you want to ask me how she is so stop pretending."

His angry eyes turned back down towards his bandaged hands. "How's she doing?" he finally whispered, trying to sound nonchalant. He was too tired to fight against and the queen's _persuasions_ were wavering. His head had to be clearing but he didn't want it to. It was easier when her eyes weren't piercing his memory with their pain and helplessness.

"I don't know," shrugged Alec honestly. "I left her drawing."

He nodded, staring at the floor now that his hands had become boring. Alec had moved to the seat by the vanity table on the other side of Izzy's room. "That's all she ever does now. It comforts her. That's good."

"Aren't you going to go after her?" Jace shook his head.

"I'm afraid of what I'll say or do."

Alec rolled his eyes. "You deserve each other then. You're both cowards."

Jace stood suddenly. "I am not a coward! Look who's talking! When did you find out you were gay, Alec? When you were three? And you told your parents when? Yesterday?"

Alec domed his fingers and glared across the room, his face swallowed by shadow so only his brilliant blue eyes shined through as two thin slits. "You'll go see her. You won't be able to stop yourself."

And with that, Jace was left with a little more to hold onto but no real knowledge of her state of being. She was still lost to him. She was still too far away and would be for some time. He looked around the room and prepared for the agonizing weeks to come, telling himself it wasn't pride binding his feet.

-----

Alec returned to Magnus' the next night. He'd called Clary – per Magnus' instructions – that day to check on her and she'd seemed fine if not a little distracted. She told him she was drawing which, according to Jace, shouldn't surprise him. Now, she was sitting on the floor by the bed in the dark room. The moonlight came through the window, encircling her. She was still drawing, in the dark, and it instantly sent his internal warning system ablaze. He clutched the pen away from her and threw it behind him. "Clary, what the hell are you doing?"

She blinked twice and looked up at the slender silhouette before her. "Jace?" she whispered hopefully, her voice full of pain and desire.

He shook his head. "No, Clary. It's Alec. Can't you see me?"

She blinked twice and smiled, her eyes not really focusing on him. "Oh yes. Hello Alec."

Alec grimaced and stepped back. Her voice was eerie and distant. He reached for the light in the room and illuminated her eyes. They were strangely overcast. She closed them, the light blinding her, but Alec caught the gray just before she turned away. He knelt down by her side on the carpet and cupped her face, turning her towards him again. "What's wrong with your eyes? Let me see!"

She shook all over. "No! I'm getting out of here. I have to see Jace!"

She pried away from his hands but he gripped her shoulders before she could stand. "Why? Why do you have to see Jace?"

He felt like he was talking to a child, another figure within her. This wasn't Clary and he wasn't getting any answers. "_I need to feed!_" the creature within her growled and he fell back on the carpet, trying to crawl away from her. He tried to move back but kept tangling himself on the drawings spread out over the floor.

Before he could call for help or even stand, Clary shook her head again as if clearing the cobwebs and she was herself again. She saw him splayed back on the carpet, trying to sit up with his wide open eyes, and instantly ran by his side.

"God, Alec, are you okay?" she asked, pushing her hair back behind her ear. "I didn't hear you come in."

He scoffed and looked around for someone to collaborate. Was he going insane or was Clary… possessed? He wasn't sure whether he should take her outstretched hand but she took his before he could decide. He stood and looked back down at the stepped on, broken pictures.

"Oh… I'm sorry. I stepped on your drawings," he said distantly, unsure of his surroundings. His voice showed no emotion.

"Oh don't worry about it. I was just doodling."

He gave a dry laugh and looked around the room. There were drawings everywhere, done in black ink. She'd had to change pens at one point because there was a small patch of black in on the carpet where one pen had apparently exploded. Her hands were covered in black and there were patches of ink on her cheeks were she scratched with the wrong end of her pen.

He bent down towards her thinned sketchbook and plucked out the final drawing she'd been working on. It had to be a final because the lines looked deliberate, not clumsy and hurried. It was a clear drawing of two black eyes. He didn't know why but they looked so familiar. For a moment, they looked like Clary's – the same oval shape and…

And he didn't have a chance to finish the thought. Magnus came in through the window, off a vampire's flying motorcycle. He had a huge smile on his face like he'd just solved the mysteries of the universe and was shortly followed by a very short man with russet skin and white face paint and animal skins.

"What the hell happened?" asked Magnus. "It looks like da Vinci threw up in here."

Clary looked around for the first time. "Did I do all this? I'm sorry, Magnus... I didn't realize what I was doing."

Alec shot Magnus a look of frantic worry, nodding towards the other room behind Clary. "Don't worry about it, Clare," said Magnus, following Alec outside. "This is my buddy Ja'id Su. He's good party people. We'll be right back."

The small, dark-skinned man bowed to Clary and she smiled awkwardly. "Nice to meet you," she said softly, scratching her head. They'd been left alone. "So... Mr. Su, is it? Would you happen to like _Naruto_?"

The man tilted his head to the side and shrugged. In the distance, they both heard a very loud, "WHAT?"

Clary excused herself and went running as far as her legs would take her to the next room where Magnus was hugging Alec tenderly. When she came in, the pulled apart and turned to her, fear written all over their faces.

"What is it?" she asked, holding onto the door frame of the bathroom for dear life. Her eyes started fluttering closed but she tried to ignore it. "Is Jace okay?"

They didn't say anything, just continued to stare at this creature before them. It looked like Clary. It walked and talked like Clary. But it wasn't her. It never had been.

-----

_By now, you should be able to guess what's hurting Clary. In the style of the author, you find out before the characters do. Just shh! Don't tell Jace! Any guesses on what's killing her? I'm dying to hear your theories. They're probably wrong but I'd love to hear them. If we hit 200 reviews, I'm continuing this thing past the original 8 planned chapters. _

**Reviews are better than ditzy blondes in 38Ds. **


	6. In Which Nobody Notices the Dying Girl

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**CHAPTER SIX:  
**_In Which Nobody Notices the Dying Girl_

-----

_I could kiss you all for your wonderful reviews but that'd just be creepy. If I replied, you got close but nobody got the whole enchilada. Also, I apologize to all the ditzy and not-so-ditzy blondes in 38Ds. I love you regardless. As for the "Greedo shot first" reference, you have to be a hardcore Star Wars fan to know what it means. It's not important though. And, since you all seem to love Magnus and Alec so much, I gave you a little insight into their quarrels. Enjoy the chapter. _

This chapter's song:**Pride **_**by Syntax.**  
_

-----

Clary heard someone whispering behind her in hurried, hushed voices. It was one person but it felt like a crowd to her. Before she knew it, they were racing to catch her before she fell to the floor. And everything went dark.

"Will she be okay?" asked Alec, setting her head down carefully on the tile floor.

Magnus shook his head. "Ja'id Su just put her to sleep but if what you saw is true, we're in deep shit here."

"Should we tell Jace?"

The small tribal man raised his vision towards Alec, tilting his head with curiosity. "That name," he said in a low voice. "She is screaming it into the dark. She mourns him though he has not died, this Jonathan Christopher."

"Jace is her boyfriend. Well, he was up until yesterday."

The man shook his head. "They have bonded. If you want to heal her, I recommend we put them in a room and watch them."

Magnus tried not to burst out laughing. "They'd kill each other."

Alec took his hand firmly and met his eyes. "We have to get them back together. We can't let Clary die."

Something very similar to doubt flashed through Magnus' mind. He'd seen these eyes before. It was usually followed by words like "Jace," "trouble," and "please help." Most importantly, it was Jace's name that seemed to be missing from this equation which usually meant Alec was

"Can't let _Clary_ die?" he whispered, narrowing his cat-like eyes. "Or Jace?"

"What are you talking about?" Alec, the poor sod, honestly had no idea.

"You'd do anything for him, wouldn't you? Even save the woman he loves…" His voice betrayed him at the end. Magnus pushed past him, over Clary's sleeping body on the floor, and into the bedroom. "Fine. Let's do this. Let's get Jace down here and fix this whole fucking mess."

Alec excused himself past the tribal doctor and stood in the doorway. Magnus had begun waving his hands about and the papers with bits of the mysterious city were flying through the air into a neat stack near the window.

He crossed his arms and watched, a smirk on his face. "Magnus, are you jealous? _Again_? How is it you're allowed to be jealous all you want? When have I ever said anything about the leather-wearing sluts that roam this place like a swarm of flies attacking your corpse every other night? "

He picked up the final paper by hand and Alec knew it meant he was tired. "Oh fuck off, Alexander. I haven't slept in two days and I'm not in the mood. Besides, they don't swarm. They only occasionally crowd."

"Mag, she's sick. It doesn't matter whose girl she is. You said it yourself! She's bleeding _energy_. One would think that'd be kind of important, considering she's the only Shadowhunter alive capable of creating Runes."

He shrugged. "I said we'd get him down here and fix it, didn't I?"

Alec rolled his eyes and put both hands on his hips like his mother when she got upset, down to the shifted weight and eyebrows. Realizing this, he quickly dropped his arms by his side but it was too late. Magnus had seen. He smirked knowingly and returned his attention to the pieces of paper that had been spread all across his bedroom.

"You're like a freakin' puppy, you know that?" scolded Alec, trying to regain the upper hand. His tone had softened. "How many back rooms and front porches and backseats of motorcycles is it going to take for you to get over this silly inferiority complex?"

"In-In-Inferiority complex?" Magnus spat back, practically sputtering.

He went to continue, raising a finger in the air, when Ja'id Su peeked his small head through the bathroom door. "Uh… I am sorry to interrupt your lovers' quarrel but there is a half-dead girl lying on the floor of your bathroom. Might we move her before you finish this argument?"

Alec sighed and raked his hands through his hair. "Right. Yea. Sure. Whatever," he whispered and turned from Magnus towards the bathroom. Clary was small enough that he could lift her by himself. He set her down on Magnus' bed again before pulling his shiny sleeve down the stairs to the first floor. Ja'id Su remained with her body, chanting God knows what.

When they got downstairs, Alec made sure he had the upper hand again. Before Magnus could even complain, his back was to a wall and Alec was hovering dangerously close. "You've got a mortal to compete with. Boo freakin' hoo. I have to go against supernaturally charged hundred-year-old sexual deviants in glitter… and a whole lot more experience."

Magnus raised his arms over his head, surrendering. They smirked at each other. The positions were usually reversed and, should Alec have been the one against the wall, his shirt would have been off five minutes ago. "I know you hate them," said Magnus sweetly. "But I really like these little bitch fits we throw. They make for good make-up sex."

Alec took a step closer, their lips an inch apart so Magnus could taste the take-out on his breath. "You drive me fucking crazy."

"Says the man who asked me why I hadn't called him back in the middle of the greatest battle between good and evil since the Cookie Monster took on Big Bird."

Alec gave him a quick kiss, amused as always at the incredible simplicity that came with being with Magnus, with letting himself be loved in return. "Shut up, you shiny bastard," he whispered and messed up his purple mane. Nothing killed the mood faster for Magnus than having a half-dead girl in his bed _and_ a messy head of hair.

"You go get Jace. Tell him what you have to. Su knows what he's talking about. The guy reads minds like you read the back of a cereal box," he instructed, his eyes narrowed with slight disdain at his current condition. He sometimes asked himself, especially after watching Alec dress, what he was doing with this swarmy little boy. But, of course, Magnus liked a challenge. He just happened to be head over fucking heels in love with this one which – despite all of Alec's worries about other warlocks – had not happened to him in several hundred years.

-----

Jace was sitting in Clary's room when Isabelle walked in, her arms bruised and covered in blood though none of it seemed her own. She made her way towards the low, wide window ledge and plopped down beside him.

"You look like shit," she told him, not an ounce of emotion in her raspy voice.

She hadn't talked to anyone since they got back home from the Seelie court two days ago. Though the others were too distracted by their own little romantic games and struggles, Izzy spent most of her days in silence. Her only entertainment was the occasional manga book from Max's old room, which she returned in almost perfect condition to the exact spot she got it from, and these little talks with Jace.

Though she didn't give a rat's ass about Jace and Clary's relationship, she did enjoy giving sisterly advice. After all, Clary was now the youngest one and Isabelle had fallen all too easily into the role of substitute mother whenever Maryse and Robert made their bi-monthly trips to Idris.

Jace barely lifted his eyes off the street below to reply, "You too. Your mom was looking for you."

"Yea, I bet she was. Any word on Clary?" She rested her head back and looked off at nothing in particular. Unlike Jace, she had no one to wait for. No one would be coming down the street for her.

"Alec went to see her a few hours ago."

Curiosity got the better of her and she turned her whole body towards him, lifting her knees up against her chest on the wide ledge. "Have you started missing her yet?"

He sighed and answered simply, "I started missing her two months ago."

She nodded, not really paying much attention to his words, and returned to staring at the street below. A few moments passed though neither was sure how long before a figure broke from the crowd of passersby below and head directly for the Institute's front door. All they saw was a dark head of hair and a figure in a white t-shirt and jeans. It was too dark to make out the rest of him, not properly, but Jace's eyes were ultimately better than most Shadowhunters'.

"Is that—" he began but stopped himself. He and Izzy exchanged looks before they settled on the same conclusion.

"Simon," they said as one and Izzy scurried downstairs to open the door. Her dad, who had been on his way to the kitchen for a midnight snack when the knock sounded, had answered. He caught the stares between Isabelle and Simon and suddenly felt very much like he was out of place. He excused himself and returned, sleepily, on his path back to the kitchen, scratching at his thigh as he went.

"Hey you," Simon greeted cheerfully, his hands lazily in his pockets. "Been out hunting?"

She nodded and continued to stare, her mouth ajar. It took Jace's footsteps behind her to snap her out of her trance. "It's nice to see you."

Simon smiled but, upon locking on Jace's lifeless eyes, it quickly faded. He'd seen this sort of guilt in Isabelle's eyes after Max's death but he'd never seen it in Jace before. After all, there was only one person he ever truly loved enough to forsake his whole world. "Is something wrong? Where are Clary and Alec?"

Izzy looked down in shame. Suddenly, she wished she'd gone after her that night, stood up for her when Jace kicked her out. She had been so preoccupied with Clary's possible betrayal and her brothers' condition that she didn't even realize how much Clary and Simon had become part of the team. Now, having Simon relatively alive and well and standing before her, she felt the pull of family once more.

"Clary's at Magnus'," she answered first. Jace seemed to have gone pale as a sheet. "She's sort of staying there for a few nights since Jocelyn and Luke are still in Idris."

His eyes shot open. "Magnus'? You mean the hellhole where I got turned into a rat and, consequently, a vampire? Why the hell isn't she here at the Institute?"

Isabelle's cheeks turned rosy pink and she looked to Jace as though pointing a finger at the culprit. "It's a long story," she said with a heavy sigh.

"Well," said Simon, crossing his arms. "Turns out I'm immortal so I've got all the time in the world. Spill it."

Jace and Isabelle stepped outside and closed the doors behind them. They shot each other one last look before silently deciding that Jace should just stand back like a good wallflower and avoid getting himself shot, bitten, or punched. A half hour later, a wide-eyed Simon was completely caught up on the last two months he spent in Idris.

He listened quietly, his brow furrowing the more Isabelle spoke. When she finally stopped, he turned towards Jace and, after a ten-second period of contemplation, swung his fist at Jace's jaw. They both tumbled a bit but it was over as soon as it began. Jace didn't want to fight. He knew he was being a douche bag.

"Simon Lewis, you stop that right now!" Isabelle shouted, not at all shy to mimic her mother's stance. "He's gone through enough!"

"And what about Clary?!" he shouted back, a bit more ferociously than he'd intended. Isabelle took a step back, honest fear in her eyes. Her whips, her knives, all of her weapons were inside and Simon _was_ a vampire despite all his freaky tendencies. "I leave for a few months and she's already shacking up with a gay warlock while you're going on suicide hunts – don't even try to deny it because I know you better than that – and Jace looks like someone told him Greedo shot first!"

Jace scoffed and mumbled under his breath, crossing his arms, "Everyone knows _Han_ shot first."

"This is wrong!" he insisted, slamming his fist on the nearest wall behind him. "This is—"

Isabelle, eerie calm, interrupted. "Jace, give us a moment."

Jace didn't complain. He just strolled back inside, in no mood to be around these people.

Clary had once told him of Isabelle and Simon's mysterious night and Simon's obvious lie. He knew Isabelle. He knew she'd needed a distraction. And, for the most part, he was happy it wasn't some faerie or elf or whatever other creature she thought would piss off her parents. It was just plain ol' Simon who, according to Clary, had a big enough heart to soothe any wild beast. Jace just happened to know it wasn't his heart that was doing the soothing, and he respected Simon for keeping it quiet.

Isabelle watched Jace go and shot him an apologetic, thankful stare until he turned around to shut the Institute doors. Then, she and Simon were alone. Again, for the first time in months. She couldn't help herself. She looked to his chest below his ridiculous t-shirt with those logos and sayings she never understood and her hands moved of their own accord. They slowly rounded his waist until her head could easily rest on his chest.

He wasn't sure what was going on because his mind was still on his best friend being off somewhere, heartbroken and miserable, but he understood what Isabelle needed. There was something there that he couldn't deny, something in the way she smelled even whilst covered in demon blood. Now more than ever, he wanted her.

"I've missed you," she whispered and he began to feel his shirt moisten under her tears.

He believed her. His arms, once resting by his sides, slowly moved to hug her closer and the memory of Clary was swept away for half a glorious second. He missed having someone to comfort now that she had a life of her own. Hell, he even missed Isabelle.

"I've missed you too," he replied lamely. Suddenly, he smelled someone drawing closer to the Institute. They smelled like… well, they smelled like Magnus in polyester, and it quickly made sense because Magnus would _never_ wear polyester. It could only be Alec. "Your brother's almost here. We shouldn't let him catch us."

She nodded and pushed off from his chest, turning towards the street to receive Alec. But, he didn't even notice them, storming right past her.

"Alec!" shouted Izzy after him, desperate for news. She gave Simon a look that told him in no uncertain terms to wait there while she chased down her brother. "Alec, stop!"

"No!" he shouted back, blazing into the old church gracelessly. He searched the rooms, opening and closing the doors like a storm trooper. "I have to find Jace!"

She stopped for a moment to contemplate the circumstances then scurried to catch up to him. "Has something happened?" she squeaked.

He opened the door to the greenhouse and was about to move on to the next room when he noticed a figure in black in the distance. He stopped and shut the door behind him so Izzy couldn't follow. She got the hint and waited patiently outside.

"Jace?" Alec called softly. His determination quickly dwindled when he saw the look on Jace's face. He looked… just like Clary? There were purple bruises under his eyes like he hadn't slept in weeks, not days, and the black sweater he wore made him look sickly gray. "Is that you?"

Jace didn't lift his eyes at first. There was a large, white flower in his hands which seemed to draw all of his attention. "What is it, Alec?" he asked finally.

"It's Clary," he said without an ounce of delicacy or tact, unaware of the pain it caused Jace to hear her name. "She's sick, Jace."

His eyes flew to Alec. "What?"

Alec took in a deep breath and finally let out all he'd been holding onto. "She was never cheating on you, Jace!" he blurted out first. "She's _sick_, has been since she got back from Idris. She never wanted you to know because she thought she'd get better but she's not. She's dying, Jace. And she needs you."

There was a moment of silence and, for an instant, Alec wondered if it was too late for them. Had Jace been hurt too much to care? Did he really stop loving her?

"Where is she?" he asked in the same dead voice.

"At Magnus'. He brought someone to help her but she's asking for you. And Jace, we think it's something demonic."

He nodded and stood on unsteady feet. Alec tried to remember the boy he knew for years, the indelible boy he loved, but he was gone. He'd been stolen by this girl and brought back broken and aged by wicked love. Still, he knew he would not change a thing. None of them would. A broken Jace was better than no Jace at all and, despite all the pain, the intermittent moments of happiness more than made up for everything.

"Are you coming?" asked Jace drowsily, halfway to the door.

Alec nodded and hurried to catch up. Isabelle saw their determined faces as they exited the greenhouse and followed, snatching Simon's hand on the way out the front doors. The others walked ahead, towards the subway. Nobody else noticed that Isabelle had yet to let go of Simon's hand, not even him. And, when he did, he liked the warmth of her hand too much to pull away. Even as Clary died away in a strange bed in Brooklyn, Simon was too caught up in Isabelle's sudden closeness and the way it made him feel alive again.

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_They were all supposed to be apart for longer but I couldn't help myself. Two chapters are enough. Anyone starting to see the love triangle brewing? Hee. More tension next chapter!_

**Reviews are better than make-up sex. **


	7. Finally

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**CHAPTER SEVEN:  
**_Finally_

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_Gah! I don't know why it took so bloody long to update! It just didn't seem to flow out like other chapters. Sorry, guys. The love triangle I mentioned before was between Isabelle, Simon, and Meliorn. There are no other love triangles in this story. Hint hint! And I can't believe nobody's caught the Boy Named Sue reference yet. Ha! Also, many thanks to the jerk who forgot to sign their name to the 200__th__ review._

This chapter's song:**Words ****_by_ _Low._**

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"Where is she?" asked Jace, practically in a growl as he pushed rudely past Magnus.

"Upstairs, jackass," Magnus added softly at the end, kissing Alec quickly hello and stepping aside to let the others in. "Oh joy. The band's getting back together. They even brought everyone's favorite bloodsucker, though he never calls and never writes…"

Simon smirked and gave Magnus a quick, one-armed hug and manly pat on the back. Despite their obvious differences, Simon missed the old boy and his eccentricities. Everyone in Idris was so… boring and monochromatic.

"How is she?" he asked softly. "Is she stable?"

Magnus nodded and replied the smirk, eyeing the way Simon's arm still held Isabelle's waist tenderly yet subconsciously. "Yea, I got a friend on it. She's alive, if that's what you mean."

"How could you let it get this bad?" he asked of no one in particular as they all headed up the stairs. They knew it was no one's fault but her own. "I mean, how could she go from tired to dying in a few days?"

"We don't know. We don't even know what it is. It's not human though."

Simon scoffed. "When is it ever?" he whispered to himself, his eyes falling on the pale-skinned creature on the bed. He let out a low string of profanities before going to kneel by her side. He felt an arm shielding him back and realized it was Jace.

Though he was quite aware that Jace and Clary were not brother and sister, they shared the same sickly skin. How long had it been since he slept?

"Don't get too close," Jace warned with the same guttural voice. "He's keeping her stable. You can't disturb him."

Isabelle pulled him back towards her, closer to the door of the bedroom. He'd become her addiction. She didn't know why she had this sudden desire to be held and touched. It didn't matter by whom. And she didn't need a distraction, not like last time. She just needed a cool hand to keep her steady.

There was a moment of silence when everyone watched Jace. The similarities were clear to them all though Magnus could not sense the bleeding gash in Jace's soul as he did with Clary. Jace was just exhausted with worry, same as anyone in his situation.

"I'm sorry," said Alec. "I should have told you sooner but this shouldn't be this bad. You saw her two days ago. She was fine. She was getting worse but not like _this_."

"You should have told me," he growled.

Simon let go of Izzy and stood between Jace and Clary. If she was asleep, it was his job to defend her, even from the boy she loved. "You should have known!" he shouted back, pushing Jace a good step backwards. He'd expected more resistance but Jace was a rag doll in his hands. "You were with her for two months and you couldn't tell she was _dying_? How did Alec?"

They all turned to Alec, who shrugged. "Don't look at _me_! It was obvious she was sick but I didn't know she was dying. You were all just looking elsewhere!"

Magnus instinctively draped an arm over Alec's shoulder, trying to protect him. Months ago, Alec would have blushed or pushed off. Now, he cringed closer into Magnus' side. It was a lesson Jace had yet to learn: to seek help and comfort from those who love you. He still kept everything inside, even from Clary. She knew this and accepted it but it was a trait which only dug her grave.

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Clary heard chanting around her and felt a small hand enveloping hers. Then, there was a large battle outside her mind. Or rather, it sounded like it. She couldn't focus her images, the images that connected to each voice inside her head. For Magnus, she always imagined a shiny GI Joe toy with purple, glittery camouflage shorts and a Mohawk. For Alec, she imagined a little boy in a library, swallowed up by sea of books so only his vibrant blue eyes and messy dark hair showed. The eyes shifted expression depending on the tone of voice. For Isabelle, she saw Wonder Woman in all black and for Simon… well, Simon was always Simon.

A long time ago, she had savored the image of him as the delicate boy with nerdy t-shirt logos and broken old jeans that never quite fit right. She knew that he no longer resembled this boy. He was a child of night, eternal. He was not of this world, but he would always be her Simon.

Then, the final voice, she did not quite place with any image. It was warped, mainly because she had never heard him so furious. It was a free fury, whole-hearted. There were no other mixed emotions. It was not fury based in fear or doubt. It was just… anger, as though someone had told him this was what he was supposed to feel and followed the command blindly.

She knew it was Jace but she couldn't picture him as though someone had wiped him out completely. She struggled to find a phrase, a word that was solely his, but his tone was consistent. There were sounds of bodies falling on wooden floor, of whips and knives being drawn but never used. She even heard Magnus hiss and someone was slapped.

"I LOVE HER! I trusted her to tell me!" Jace yelled, his voice cracking.

She continued to force herself to open her eyes but she was not connected to her body. She had no control. Then, the chanting stopped and her eyes shot open. She gasped out for air and felt two strong hands holding her outstretched arms.

Jace.

His light eyes were set in an emotion she hadn't seen in some time. He didn't say anything, merely held her firmly. Everyone in the room had frozen. She could feel them, see hints of Magnus' glitter in the corner of her eye, but she refused to take her eyes off Jace as though afraid he'd disappear.

Surprisingly, she could focus on the elegant features of his face without becoming dizzy or weak. The longer he held her, the better she felt. A slow smile crept onto her face.

"Hey," she whispered.

He didn't reply the smile and the crease between his eyebrows only deepened.

"Hey," said Simon lovingly, coming to sit on the bed across from Jace.

"You lied," she told Jace, her voice dreamy, ignoring Simon completely. "You _do_ love me."

Jace scoffed and his face softened. "You idiot," he finally breathed out, pulling her closer into a gentle hug. He was afraid of hurting her. "Why didn't you tell me?"

She finally took a look around the room over his shoulder. Everyone seemed more or less happy to see her, except Magnus who walked towards her now, an eyebrow raised curiously.

"Don't ask questions you already know the answer to," she answered and pushed back to see his face again. She cradled his cheek in her palm. "No offense, but you look like crap."

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" Magnus asked Ja'id Su in a hushed voice.

Clary suddenly felt like an animal at a zoo. "What?"

"I know. I know. I look like crap. I don't need reinforcement," Jace said, slumping his shoulders with slight relief at seeing Clary awake.

Magnus rolled his eyes. "No, actually, I was just going to say you're the missing piece of the puzzle to what's making Clary sick but hey, if you want to be vain, go ahead."

"Just tells us what this is!" shouted Simon. Clary smiled at him for the first time, squeezing his hand on the bed.

"A possession!" Magnus shouted back, his tone light. He seemed… fascinated? His eyes were bright like he could see the flow of energy between them, the great puzzle revealing itself before him, and his arms outstretched at his sides.

"I was right?" asked Alec timidly behind him, feeling slightly proud of his deductive skills.

"If it was a charm or bad rune or something like that, meant to kill her, it wouldn't be drawing energy from Jace right now, which explains why she nearly died when we took her away from the Institute," he explained quickly then turned to Clary. "Something's feeding off your energy and, to stay alive, you're feeding off Jace because of your… uhm, connection."

Clary went a little red. "Sorry," she whispered to him. He just brought her to his chest again, his arms a bit too tight as though he too was afraid she'd disappear.

"Yes yes," continued Magnus, waving his hand around dismissively. "It's very sad. We should make a Hallmark card just for this moment. Alas, we have a problem."

"What is it now?" drawled Izzy from the doorway, her arms crossed.

Clary felt like saying, "Well I'm sorry that my demonic possession is taking up so much of your precious decapitation time," but thought it might sound a little callous of her.

"We find whatever's doing this and kill it."

"Well, obviously," said Jace. "The thing is _how_ to find it. Would it be close?"

"Not necessarily. I've never seen a possession like this either. It's too slow as though they were trying to evade detection as they gathered up energy."

"A smart demon?" said Simon. Magnus shot him a cross look. Simon, realizing warlocks were part demon, shot back an apologetic smile and continued, "I know they're all smiles and everything but how do they—"

"Through dreams?" interrupted Jace. The dark circles under his eyes were suddenly more pronounced, understandably so.

Clary gripped his arm. "The pit?"

"Those eyes."

They shared a nod and, coming to the same conclusion, said, "Sebastian."

"Isn't his real name Jonathan?" Alec added, remembering what Ja'id Su had said about the voices in her head. Jace was about to make a joke about semantics but was cut off. "Jonathan Christopher? Her brother?"

Ja'id Su sat up, startled, and faced Magnus accusingly. "He is blood? She is part demon?"

"No, we're all angel here, thank God," corrected Jace. "But how could—let's just call him Sebastian to avoid confusion—could have taken hold of her if I was the last person to see him alive."

"He's obviously not dead. I mean, she can't be possessed by a ghost, can she?" asked Izzy, her eyes wide with fear at the boy's name. She didn't have to have the dreams to be haunted by his eyes day and night. Jace and Clary could have forgotten them one day. They could have gotten married and go on with their lives, far away. Jace thought he had killed his demons. Izzy never had.

"I can find out, if you allow me passage," said Ja'id Su softly, bowing before her and Jace.

Jace pulled her closer to his chest. "Where? How?" he asked, desperate for a solution. He wanted everything to return to the way things were, but he too easily fooled himself. Things had never been good. And, though Clary was always his, he could never really see that their relationship only ever existed in his head.

"I can enter her mind. I can search for answers."

Clary's eyes widened. She hated some of her own thoughts. She couldn't imagine what someone else might think of them. Still, she set those worries aside for the chance to be truly alone with Jace. Realizing she'd been possessed all this time made her doubt her feelings, her mind.

"Will it hurt?" she asked in a meek voice. Shadowhunters weren't supposed to be afraid of pain. They were supposed to relish in it and the power it brought. Jace glanced at her quickly in surprise then back at Ja'id Su. He wasn't disappointed. He just… didn't like her reminding him how fragile she really was. He lived to protect her now, whether she liked it or not and she _never_ liked it.

"No, my dear. It will not. I am quick and if all goes well, it will not be aware of my presence."

Jace went to stand but Magnus pushed him back down. "Get comfortable, sweetheart. You can't let her go or she'll crash again," he said then turned towards the room. "We should give them a little privacy in case the dirty parts of Clary's mind start spilling out onto the floor."

Clary looked terrified but Magnus shot her a small smile and a wink, showing her he was kidding. Everyone cleared the room, herded out by Magnus who closed the door behind him. He materialized a chair and set it against the door, sitting down gracefully with crossed legs.

Clary sighed, defeated, and scooted over so Jace could lie down beside her. He understood what she wanted but he didn't right away. He eyed the spot of bedding for a long moment then slowly kicked off his shoes and rested on his side next to her.

Ja'id Su watched their interaction with a tilted head and narrowed eyes. He looked then to Magnus questioningly but, before Clary or Jace could see, Su had taken hold of her hand and had penetrated her mind.

It felt as thought a bullet had penetrated her temple. Her mind went dark as though someone had kicked her out of her own thoughts. She opened her eyes wide but everything was dark. "I can't see!" she shouted to the ceiling, arching her back. She felt two warm hands push her gently back down. It was Jace, of course, and his touch made her feel infinitely better.

"It's okay," he whispered in her ear, the fear obvious in his voice. He was trying so hard to be strong for her. "I'm here, Clary."

"There's something wrong. This is no simple possession!" Ja'id Su shouted.

Jace hushed him. "You're scaring her!"

"She should be scared! This creature cannot be expelled. It does not reside within her body, within any body!"

Clary heard something hissing in her head, hissing in pain. "Get out!" the demon voice said. "_They are mine!_"

The lights were turned back on and she heard Su's body hit the floor by her side. She gasped out again and reached around for Jace. Everything was blurry but his hair and pale skin were like a beacon against the darkness. She gripped his arm so strongly that her nails pierced the skin and he cringed, pulling her off.

"Clary! Your eyes!" Magnus shouted. "You have to come back!"

He ran down to Su's little body on the floor, pulling him up into a sitting position. His eyes were as black as hers, dead and lifeless. She was slowly fading.

"_She_ did this!" shouted Su, breaking out into violent spasms.

Clary drew closer into Jace on the bed just as Simon broke down the door. "What's going on?" he shouted, practically flying over the bed toward Su. "What did she do to him?"

She didn't cry. She just clung to Jace's shirt. "I'm sorry," she replied, her voice low as though still in shock. Everyone around her was screaming but all she craved was the silence in her head again.

Jace wanted to tell her it wasn't her fault but he couldn't lie to himself. "What can we do?" he asked Magnus, who seemed to be trying to hold Su down unsuccessfully.

"You promised!" the little man growled, the blackness spreading in his eyes. He was talking to a figure before him, an image only he could see. Magnus knew how Su's abilities worked. He knew he was trying to manipulate the demon into giving them answers. "You promised me, mother! You said I would be safe!"

Jace suddenly froze his attempts to comfort her. He stiffened until she pulled back. "Jace?"

He flung out of her grip and climbed down by the floor beside Simon and Magnus. He steadied Su's head and focuses the old man's dead eyes on his own. He could feel the warmth slipping from the man. He was dying and they could do nothing to stop it.

"Say it again! Who sent you to us? Who did this to you?" he asked.

The creature did not respond. Su gave his final breath and the spasms stopped. He began to wheeze out something, his hand flying up to grip Jace's sleeve to pull him closer. "Jocelyn," he whispered. "Only she … can… end the… connection."

A few moments later, Su was seemingly dead. It took a few minutes for him to snap back to life again. The first thing he did when he regained consciousness was move as far away from Clary as possible, nearly stepping out the window.

"You okay there, buddy?" asked Simon, holding his arm to make sure he didn't fall.

Su stared at Jace, who had the mission etched into his mind. "We have to go," he said, kneeling on the wooden floor. He straightened up, his shoulders preparing themselves to bear a great weight.

"Go? Go where?" asked Simon in disbelief. "That thing nearly killed him!"

Jace shook his head and stood. He turned towards Clary who still sat up against the headboard. He slid his arms beneath her knees and back and lifted her up like a knight. He turned back to the others on the floor and, with a furrowed brow and pursed lips, answered, "You heard him. We need to see Jocelyn. We need to end this... We need to go to Idris."

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_If you reviewed with a prediction to what's killing Clary, a correct one, you found out this plot twist early. Sorry to everyone else but I thought it was pretty obvious. And for anyone who's a Draco/Hermione fan, my epic _**Love, Lust, and Draco Malfoy**_ story is now complete! Oh yes. I'm not above shameless self-promotion. Let's hope the next chapter flows!_

**Reviews are better than bloodsuckers who never call. **


	8. Hallelujah

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**CHAPTER EIGHT:**

_Hallelujah_

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_Smutty fun ahead. Ye be warned. This story has an M rating for a reason and the FULL NC-17 version is now below. As for songs, I imagined _**Delicate**_**by Damien Rice**__ for the upcoming scene. I think you'll agree it fits. _

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Jace had to be convinced that there was no hurry, which was a complete lie. Magnus insisted he put Clary back down on the bed until they could conjure up another portal into Idris. Simon's had closed up and they had to pack their weapons and whatnot. Ja'id Su had left to confer with others of his kind. If this was truly Sebastian's doing, they needed to research as much as they could about demonic possession and that too would take time. Jace had no choice but to wait.

"Don't worry," said Clary, her head rested on his chest atop Magnus' bed. She traced circles on his shirt, her spirit finally at peace now that he was beside her again. She knew she was just feeding off his energy but she her heart beat regularly and her skin was regaining its color.

She reached up and tried to smooth out his forehead with her fingers, if only to liven the mood of the now empty room. He smiled for the first time in an hour. They hadn't moved from the bed. Even as the others buzzed around them, discussing plans of attack and places Sebastian might be hiding, they did not move. Jace continued to rest on his back, one arm up over his head, with Clary clinging to his side like the leech she'd become. She tried very hard not to think about it. Thinking only got her in trouble.

"I have to worry," he replied softly a minute later. His voice was like a caress, cradling her in the wind from the window. His hands hadn't moved since he positioned her against him. She shivered slightly, her own body reminding her they weren't really alone. They hadn't been alone since Idris.

She shook her head, clearing the cobwebs as much as disagreeing. "No, you don't. We'll talk to Mom and she'll figure it out."

It was easy for her to say. She had a mother who, for the last 16 years, had more or less accounted for her safety. He'd only ever been harmed by his so-called father. He didn't understand her desire to seek help from an adult. Jace didn't really trust adults, not anymore. He wasn't even sure if he could trust _Clary_ anymore. They had no idea the extent of Sebastian's control.

"Yea," he humored her lamely. "Everything will be fine."

She looked up at the ceiling, trying to find what was so fascinating about that particular spot when he had her in bed, alone and skimpily clothed. "Jace," she began hesitantly. "Did you… did you feel what I was doing to you? Do you feel it now?"

He shook his head. Finally! Movement! Alas, it passed quickly and he was still again. "I was a little bit tired. I didn't think anything of it."

It didn't reassure her at all. His voice was dead of emotion. She slapped his chest and he barely flinched. "Jace, talk to me!" she shouted, propping herself up onto her right elbow so she could better look down upon him. "I'm being possessed by my dead brother and using you to fill up the crack in my freakin' soul! What part of that sounds normal? Why can't you see that I've been going out of my mind for the last few months and that _I need you?_"

He scoffed but still didn't move, except to fold both his hands atop his waist. She swung her leg over his and straddled him. She anchored her arms down beside his head and let her hair fall down, shielding his peripheral view so he could not escape her gaze. She waited, eyebrows raised, expecting an answer.

"You need me? _Now_ you're telling me you need me? How hard was it to say that two months ago?"

Though he didn't raise his voice, she felt the anger bubbling beneath. Jace didn't do hurt. He skipped all that and went straight to anger. It was a cleaner, simpler emotion that granted him great combat skills against many a demonic foe.

"I'm saying it now. Are you really going to hold it over my head for the rest of our lives?" she whispered, lowering her mouth to his. Their lips met but, again, there was no motion from him. They barely made a sound. She hovered over his mouth a second longer, remembering past kisses and what the warmth of his lips had once done to her aching body. "Jace, we're Shadowhunters."

He laughed but there was no humor in his voice. "You think I can ever forget it?"

She raked his hair back soothingly. His eyes rolled back into his head of their own will. She knew he loved this motion from all their days resting on her bed. "No. I mean, look at us. We bring together the Clave and the Downworlders, kill off an army of demons, and here we are again preparing for another fight. It's never going to end, Jace. We're just going to have to keep fighting till it kills us and I couldn't stand it if I died without showing you how much I love you."

He closed his eyes, unable to look at her a second longer. His hand went to her knee and slid up her thigh towards her waist. He settled her forward and continued his exploration up to her breasts neck. He cupped her face, memorizing the swell of her lips with his thumb and the curves of her cheeks with his lips.

Her body slid down atop his, matching up perfectly. He let out a long sigh of relief and kissed her more passionately, his tongue penetrating her mouth and sending jolts of electricity through her body. She gasped but didn't pull away, massaging her own tongue with his until the ardor escaped down his skin into his hands and he found himself pulling her shirt over her head effortlessly.

It forced them to break their contact momentarily and Jace opened his pleading eyes once again. Clary froze before bending back down to continue their kiss. Her first impression was that he'd seen something he didn't like and instantly looked down at herself. She wasn't wearing a horribly embarrassing bra and none of her ribs were jutting out here and there. The other stuff, the scars and bruises, he was used to.

Still, his hands had frozen and his eyes continued to beg for something she didn't know she had. "What is it?" she asked, raking his hair once again. This wasn't how she imagined her first time, in Brooklyn in a strange wizard's bed. She also imagined happiness and warmth, not chilly breezes and even colder stares.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his hands back on her now-bare waist.

She smiled sadly. "I'm scared," she whispered, ashamed as always to show her fear. "I've never—"

He returned her smile and, this time, it did reach his eyes. "Trust me," he murmured into her lips.

"With my life," she replied though it wasn't a question.

He sat her up on his waist and pulled himself up against the headboard. He slid his own sweater and the white shirt he had underneath off in one quick motion. Clary tossed it on the floor beside the bed. His eyes wandered towards his pants zipper but his hands hesitated to undo it. She took the initiative and unbuttoned and unzipped him herself, a wide smile on her face. She tugged at the hem and he lifted his hips so she could strip him completely.

She stole a moment to take in the graceful curves of his bare muscles and thighs and the length of his organ. The blood rose to her cheeks and her chest felt like it'd caught fire. He inspected her face as she hesitated to reach down and trace the thin, white scars all over his body. They reached down below his hipbones. She winced as she traced them with her fingers, biting her bottom lip the lower she went. He watched, terrified she'd scare and ask to stop.

He smiled to himself and reached up to trace her own scars running down her chest. She laughed at his touch. It tickled. The happiness and warmth she'd imagine was slowly creeping into the room, engulfing them. She didn't know why but being like this, basking in each other's nakedness, made her feel stronger as though they were casting the evil spirits out with their intimacy. Then, she realized, it was probably their proximity that was making her overflow with energy.

He was obviously excited now. He locked his eyes on Clary as to steady her. She reached back behind her and unclasped her bra, letting it drop atop his sweater. Then, much less carefully, she slid out of her jeans. She tumbled and fell forward onto his naked body, both laughing and reaching for something to hold still.

She tried to avoid his erection but it was the obvious elephant in the room. He could see how uncomfortable she was and, wrapping himself around her waist, spun so she'd be on the bottom. His smirk and playful eyes told her she'd get her chance at the top soon enough. The sudden gesture made her bite her bottom lip again and he read it as a sign that she liked quick movements, liked being taken with little permission asked or given.

It was the trust, he told himself. She knew he'd never hurt her. He should have known Clary wasn't one for delicate movements. She was blunt and cavalier in everyday life. Why should sex be any different?

He took a deep breath and decided to take the plunge. He forced her legs apart and lifted her knees. He started at her lips and made a trail of kisses down her chest – sloppy, desperate kisses – towards the soft tuft of hair between her legs. He lifted her hips up in the air and buried his face into her rosy sex, licking long and deep and slow. Her knees buckled and her hips shot up higher, urging him further. The sensation was driving her wild. He was too slow. She wanted more, quicker. She wanted _him_.

Still, she knew this was necessary. This was her first time. They couldn't just jump plunge into the act like brutes. If this was going to be their last chance together, they were going to make it last and they were going to make it good.

As he sucked at her clitoris, his finger found its way into her sex, penetrating her in quick, twisting jabs. Clary didn't realize the moans were coming from her until she covered her own mouth to stop from screaming. Jace laughed and stopped his motion, looking up to catch the look of ecstasy on her reddened cheeks.

"Calm down, Clare," he joked. "I've barely started."

But he did not pull away his hand. Instead of one, he inserted two then three, stretching her as best he could in preparation for his cock. After all, he was bred from the blood of angels. He was a god among men in her eyes, her angel boy with the harsh words and deliciously strong hands. She was going to need a lot of stretching room to be able to fit all of him, or so she thought.

He reached four fingers and she had to reach over for the pillow to smother her cries. His hand reached up her body to her chest, grasping her left breast and kneading. Her hips jutted forward as though by spasm and she trembled, pushing against the bed frame with her feet for balance. The cool sensation under her feet and the gentle licks and sucks on her clitoris threw her over the edge of her plateau.

He waited for her to relax, slowing his motions, but her climax lasted longer than he anticipated. He pulled out of her completely and followed the trail of kisses back up to her neck. Without even thinking, she threw the pillow aside and cupped his face in her palms, bringing her lips to his. Suddenly, she couldn't get enough of the moisture as though she'd been starving all along and had never been told.

Their hands roamed of their own accord, scanning every inch of skin in their path. She clawed her nails into his back and pulled him closer against her, letting this strange beast rising in her chest escape from its cell. They rolled around in a tangle of arms, legs, and lips until Jace could easily reach over to the bedside table into Magnus' condom drawer. It was the top one and was filled with an assortment of colors, flavors, sizes, and textures.

He grabbed one at random and read it over her shoulder. Ribbed and lubricated. Perfect. He sat up a little to unroll it over himself as Clary watched in amazement, making mental notes of how it was done. He turned his attention back to her and caught her inquisitive stare at his cock, biting her lips again. He rolled his eyes. "It's not made of glass, Clary. You can touch it."

She smirked and rolled atop him again, straddling him. She wrapped her fingers around his penis and carefully positioned herself, allowed him to slide within her and fill her slowly to the rim. He helped keep her steady by holding her waist as she moved up and down atop his shaft, throwing her head back. Her spine was on fire but she didn't care about anything above the waist. His thumbs were digging into her hip bones and the pain only urged her to move quicker.

It didn't take long for him to burst himself. Clary felt him draw closer, his penis swelling with her, and looked down to catch his face as he went. He looked like he was in pain, his brow furrowed and jaw clenched. Was it painful for men? It hadn't been for her. She was pretty sure she'd torn a few things down there but there was no sign of blood anywhere. In her current state, she figured she just didn't have any blood to spare.

She went to stop but he only wrapped her in his arms and retook the top, continuing to thrust into her again and again – faster and faster – until she came. Exhausted, she laid limp face up on the bed, staring starry-eyed at the plain ceiling. He pulled out of her and rolled over, falling face down beside her. He surreptitiously reached down and tossed the condom into the waist basket under the bedside table. He had to give it to Magnus. He had his room strategically aligned especially for this sort of thing. Jace wasn't even sure warlocks slept anymore.

He rested his arm across her waist and watched her quickly fall asleep from exhaustion. She had used up all her energy, poor girl, faster than she could take from him. He watched her bare chest rise and fall in perfect rhythm for a half hour. He didn't want to move, should he wake her. He wanted her to take as much energy as possible so she'd be ready for Idris. Traveling would surely take it out of her again.

After a half hour, he couldn't take the silence anymore. He was sure she was deep in sleep but slowly moved his arm as to not jostle her awake. He slid out of bed and searched the pile of clothes on the floor for his pants and sweater. He didn't bother with undershirts and underwear and he had no idea the current condition of his hair but he left the room nonetheless, knowing the others would be outside.

Then, by the wide-eyed expressions on Alec, Magnus, and Izzy, he realized they probably heard everything. Magnus hid his lips behind a large cup of what appeared to be tea and looked at everything except Jace's face. Izzy crossed her arms and legs and leaned back in a simple chair in the corner, as far away from the bedroom door as possible. As for Magnus, he sat at the little round table across from Alec with a murderous stare.

Jace gulped and gently shut the door behind him. He adjusted his twisted sweater, pulling it down over his jeans. "Uh… hi," he whispered, standing very still as though afraid a knife might get thrown at his head any minute. "We ready for Idris?"

Izzy scoffed. "We were ready twenty minutes ago. We just didn't want to enter the lion's den in mid-coitus."

Alec sputtered into his tea. Magnus just shook his head as though disappointed. "You slept with her knowing she was possessed by the demonic spirit of her dead brother. Does anyone else find that horribly, horribly wrong?"

Jace rolled his eyes and went to serve himself up some tea. The only mug left was presumably Magnus' because it had the words World's Sexiest Sugar Daddy across it in glowing purple letters. He looked over his shoulder at Alec's cup. It was smaller and plain white with a gold rim. He was surprised they did not match but something told Jace the real matching cup was broken in a garbage can somewhere.

"Look who's talking. Did I not hear through the grapevine that you had a three-week relationship with a merman? Honestly, I think that's a little creepier. Everyone knows Izzy here fucked a bloodsucker, a faerie, half the Downworld… and Alec's doing you. Which is wrong in so so so many ways."

Magnus furrowed his brow but conceded the point. Izzy however stood up from her chair, obviously offended. But Jace read the curves of her face too easily. It wasn't offense. It was hurt, and he knew to retreat before he said something worse. He didn't want to alienate them anymore. He couldn't afford to if he wanted to save Clary.

"I'm sorry, Iz," he whispered. "It just slipped."

Alec set down his mug instantly. He turned to Magnus and reached for his hand across the table. "Did Jace just… apologize?" he hissed. "We should have gotten him laid _years_ ago."

"Ha. Ha," said Jace, obviously not amused.

Isabelle seemed to have taken in his apology and had let the insults pass. She turned to the door and announced to no one, "I'm going to check on Simon. Don't leave without us."

She didn't have time to worry about Jace and his frail little heart. She grabbed a random black coat off the rack by the front door and headed outside. She didn't have to go far. He was sitting on the bus bench on the corner of the street, slouched down with one arm resting along the backrest as though waiting for her to take the spot beside him. As soon as she did, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer into his side till her head rested on his shoulder.

"Are they done?" he asked with obvious disgust. She didn't look up. She didn't want to see his face, didn't want to see the jealousy he still held.

"A while ago. Jace just came out now. He's his usual cheery self."

He gave a sharp laugh. "I bet," he growled and went to stand. She tugged on his shirt, pulling him back down. When the light of a passing car caught her face, he saw the sadness for the first time. And then, it hit him. "You're afraid of Sebastian, aren't you?"

She winced and pulled harder till he sat back down. She hated hearing that name. She never responded to his question though. They were engulfed in silence once more, watching the taxis pass by. She didn't know what to do. He was obviously uncomfortable sitting in silence with her. They weren't the type of couple that basked in each others' presence. He was dead, and every bone in her body told her to stab first and ask questions later when it to came to vampires.

"Simon…" she began softly, knowing he could hear. "You still love her, don't you?"

He shook his head. "Once but now, she's more like a little sister that I keep seeing get hurt. And I don't think I can pick up the pieces this time, Iz."

She couldn't hold back the little smile. Not only was he kind, but he had the potential to be _hers_ alone. "There's something you should know." She explained Jace's stupid trip into the Seelie Court and her even stupider deal to replace him.

"ARE YOU INSANE?!" he shouted, standing and facing her. His fists fell down at his sides. "Izzy, you can't do that!"

"Why?" She stood too, defiant. "What do I have to keep me here, Simon? Max is gone. Jace and Alec both have people who love them. Who do I have? If I stayed with the Seelie Court, I could at least be close to—"

"You can say it."

She looked down in shame. Here she was asking about his love for Clary when she obviously never got over Meliorn. She whispered his name so low that even Simon barely caught it.

"Do _they_ know?" he asked, nodding towards the entrance to Magnus' loft.

She shook her head. Then, a small dose of courage made her raise her head and look him straight in the eye. "They don't know about our letters either."

He covered his face with his hand and raked his hair back. "They're just letters, Izzy."

"_Fifty-six_ letters, Simon. I keep count in my head. You've sent me 56 letters since the last time we—Are you telling me they meant nothing, that you've been doing the same to Clary all this time? The things you said—" Her tone wasn't pleading. She was pointing out his hypocrisy and nothing else, she told herself, but the pain was there.

He scoffed but he was lost for words. It was so hard to deny his love, to win the argument, when his every action proved he cared for her. He'd been so stupid but it was so hard to stop after that second letter. He was just checking in on her, he told himself, but they'd become so addictive. Despite the loneliness, he liked Idris. He'd only come back because the letters stopped too suddenly.

"Damn, Izzy," he finally managed, too woozy to argue any further. It'd been too long since he last fed. "What are we doing? I meant every word and yes, it makes me pathetically jealous that you'd rather be trapped in the Court with that ass than be with me. But I also know I never asked you. Never once did I tell you I was coming back, only that I missed you. And never once did I tell you I loved you, though I do. I'm sorry that I wasn't there when you needed me. I'm sorry I went away."

She shed a single tear before turning back towards the loft, her heart unable to hear anymore before bursting out of its bony cell. Magnus was waiting with his mug full of something reeking, leaned up against the wall outside the door just out of view from the bus bench. He was the only one she'd trusted with knowledge of the letters, only because she needed him to send them to Idris. Of course he had read them though he'd told nothing to Alec on the matter. Right then, he wished he had because Alec would be the one in her way now, not him.

"Don't do it, Isabelle," he whispered, impeding her path inside. "Go back."

The tears overflowed. "It's none of your business, Magnus. Move!"

"His best friend, his _sister_, is dying and he can't do a thing to stop it, Isabelle. You know what that feels like. He was here when you really needed him all those months ago. Be here for him now. He loves you more than he says, more than you know."

"And how would _you_ know?"

He shrugged and started back inside. "Maybe I'm the only one in this whole ruddy thing who doesn't have a secret, personal agenda. Maybe I'm just lying to play with your heads. Maybe I'm just observant. Go back and find out."

She didn't have to. The moment she turned around, she found him towering over her. She thought he'd grown but it was obviously impossible. He smirked down at her and whispered, "Distract me. At the very least, do me that favor."

She smiled and brought his cold lips down on hers again. They wouldn't have the night, not the way Jace and Clary had, but they'd at least have something to fight for.

-----

They waited for Clary to wake. Jace had to help her get dressed so she wouldn't collapse. He knew he wasn't the one doing this to her but he certainly hadn't helped the matter any. She was smiling though, a smile so genuine he hadn't seen since he first met her.

He buttoned up her jacket as she buttoned his coat. Their hands lingered on each others' collar and their eyes locked for the first time since she'd woken. She reached up to caress his cheek and they shared a slow, clean kiss.

"I love you," she whispered against his lips, making them tremble. To him, it sounded like a goodbye so he did not return the gesture.

They walked hand in hand towards the living room where everyone was arming themselves with every knife in their arsenal. Magnus was the only one who seemed light in his stylish black leather pants and white, button-down shirt. He still jumped out against the others. "Well… you look… monochromatic," commented Jace. Alec, who hadn't noticed, scanned him up and down quickly before going back to their weaponry. It was obvious to Jace, especially by the shut-up-or-I'll-kill-you stare, that Magnus didn't want Alec to notice the change.

"Let's go," demanded Izzy, sounding annoyed. The quicker they left, the quicker they could come back and she and Simon could finish what they started on the front steps.

"Testy, testy," answered Magnus, pointing to the already opened portal in the bathroom's full-length mirror.

Clary closed her eyes and allowed Jace to guide her forward into the portal with a soft hand on the base of her spine. It felt like a little piece of forever. The others went first and, with each step closer, her mind was finally purged of all the worries that plagued her. No longer preoccupied with Jace and the loss of him, she could take in the true problem that threatened her sanity.

Her mother had been responsible for this. Su had seen it in her own mind. There was little possibility that he'd been wrong, unless Sebastian had caught him and fed him a lie. It seemed unlikely but possible. Why would he want them back in Idris unless he was there himself, what was left of him?

In those few moments in darkness, she tried to imagine the beautiful warrior who tucked her in every night and indulged her anti-social behavior. She imagined her smile and her blazing red hair and the way she smelled of turpentine. This couldn't be her doing. It couldn't be.

Before she even opened her eyes, she knew they were in Idris. The breeze was different, free of pollution and that classic New York smell she couldn't get out of her clothes. The hand on her spine disappeared, replaced by two firm arms wrapped around her. Ah, the delightful feel of flannel and the smell of the forest. Her favorite lumberjack teddy bear.

"Luke," she whispered, unable to escape his grip long enough to hug him back.

She opened her eyes, greeted by plaid. "God, I've missed you, kiddo," he growled, lifting her up off the floor by her waist and spinning her around. Even after they all insisted he set her down, the room continued to spin. Jace's less muscular arms held her shoulders in place, probably leaving bruises. She'd have bruises in some _very_ strange places in the morning.

"I've missed you too, Luke," she answered, shooting him a genuine smile.

He caught her ill state instantly. "What the Hell happened to you? You look half-dead." His eyes flew to Jace accusingly.

She stepped forward between them. "Relax. It isn't him. But you're right. There's something wrong with me and we need to see Mom. Now."

Luke surveyed the faces of the others for answers but nobody seemed to look him in the eyes.

-----

_We're almost done! Yay! I so like finishing a story. Don't let me wuss out and get distracted by other stories, though it'll probably be a while till I update again. There are just so many floating around in my head so tell me what you like, dislike. And this new Inbox thread thingy is great so feel free to message me about anything. _

**Reviews are better than boyfriends who make up for all the silence. **


	9. The Malevolent Spirit's Mother

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**CHAPTER NINE:  
**_The Malevolent Spirit's Mother  
_

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_Yes! It's finally here! I sincerely apologize for the delay. I got sidetracked with other stories and totally forget. Like I always say, this is why you have to review. So I don't forget. Also, the deleted sex scene from last chapter is on my LJ if you're in the mood for lemony fun. _

_Oh! And, the __**official playlist**__** to City of Ink**__ can now be found (complete with lyrics) in my LiveJournal. Link's on my profile. I've gone back and added the songs to the beginning of each chapter. _

This chapter's song:** Melt into the Wall **_**by **__**Pilate.**__ Enjoy. _

-----

"She's on bed rest," said Luke, fighting back a small smile that nobody seemed to understand. They'd just walked into this other world, not realizing these people weren't governed by the petty problems of Clary and Jace.

"Bed rest?" echoed Clary, turning to Magnus. "Do you think she's got the same thing I do?"

Luke's eyes snapped up off his feet onto Clary's tiny form. "You better not have what she has! She's pregnant."

Jace took a step back from Clary and threw his arms up in the air. "Whoa whoa whoa. Nobody's pregnant on this end. Don't scare me, man!"

Clary just stared, mouth agape, at Luke. Her eyes were accusing but her heart was aflutter with happiness. "She's pregnant? How?!"

Magnus chuckled behind her and answered, "I could draw you a diagram but, for Jace, we might need sock puppets and laser pointers."

Clary shook her head, ignoring Magnus completely. "Is it yours?" she corrected herself. "You two aren't even married! Was it an accident?"

"Clary!" scolded Luke. "What sort of question is that?"

"Was it?" she shouted.

He sighed. "No, it wasn't an accident at all," he said with a shrug, his hands deep in his pockets. He didn't want to explain his and Jocelyn's desire for a child or the marriage laws in Alicante. As progressive as they were, he was still a monster and they didn't want monsters mixing with their womenfolk. "She's just seven weeks along but the warlocks say it's a girl. They put her on bed rest since there's a chance she might be born—you know."

"A werewolf?" finished Alec with hidden disgust. It was obvious to the others but not to Luke, Simon, and Clary. Jace cleared his throat, signaling for Alec to shut the hell up.

Isabelle rolled her eyes and pushed past the others. Alec called after her but she just kept walking through the city. "I'm going to see her and getting her to call off this whole mess before she kills someone."

"What mess?" shouted Luke after her, his wild eyes turning to Jace and Clary for an explanation. "Somebody tell me what the hell is going on!"

"I'm dying!" spat Clary. "Sebastian is alive somewhere and Mom knows where. We have to stop him before he kills me and starts going after _her_. Understand?"

He turned and, without a single complaint, led them to their home.

-----

They could see the house in the distance, a great manor hidden by hills and a long entryway framed in white roses. They had asked Clary if she'd wanted to come live with them but she never imagined her mother living a place like _this_. She was used to her little brownstone, her small room and her table for four, not forty. This place looked like it could house a small army.

Magnus whistled, taken in by its grandeur. "Swanky," he whispered into Alec's ear.

They were otherwise silent the whole way. They slipped through the living room to a short hallway leading to a large set of double doors. Luke opened them slowly and everyone could see she was asleep. They shared looks across the way and let Clary and Jace step forward. It felt like this confrontation should be private and, no matter how much they fought, they had already begun to see Clary and Jace as a single person. An item in its purest form.

Clary neared the bed with trepidation. Seeing her mother sleeping like that, so peaceful and quiet, reminded her of those months she spent in a coma. It nearly broke her down in tears so she reached for Jace's hand to steady herself. He understood because he had once seen Jocelyn as his mother and it had hurt him just as much to watch her in pain. Most of all, he saw how much it hurt Clary to see her and clutched her hand extra hard to keep her strong.

"Mom?" she whispered, stepping forward and clearing her throat. Luke closed the door behind him, leaving Simon, Isabelle, Alec, and Magnus alone in the long living room. "Mom, wake up."

Jocelyn opened her eyes slowly and everyone could see Clary's shoulders drop in relaxation. "Clary? Jace? What are you doing here?"

Jace and Luke looked to Clary to ask but she was frozen, staring at her mother. She couldn't believe, especially after seeing the gentle smile on Jocelyn's face, that her mother could be behind all this pain.

So, Jace stepped in and confronted her himself. "We need to know what you did with Sebastian," he said, as straightforward and emotionless as possible. This was business. This was serious.

Jocelyn seemed honestly confused, looking to Clary for an explanation but finding only a blank, distant expression. She had no choice but to turn back to Jace. "Excuse me?"

"Sebastian. I mean, Jonathan. He's killing Clary as we speak. You need to tell us what you did and where he's hiding."

Jocelyn suddenly blanched and covered her eyes, unable to look at her daughter a second longer. "Oh god," she whispered and reached out for Luke who came to sit beside her on the bed. "He can't be doing this. It can't be him."

"Where is he?" insisted Jace through gritted teeth. Clary absentmindedly caressed his arm, silently telling him to calm down.

She gulped and, before Jocelyn could explain, she left Jace's hand behind and walked off towards the bedside table where a large sketchpad rested. She opened it and began sifting through the large pictures, all done in brilliant black ink. They were much like her own, just snapshots of a city. Alleys, skyscrapers, sidewalks… all cloaked in darkness.

"He's here, isn't he?" she whispered for the first time. "He's in the city."

"What?" said Luke and Jace at the same time. Jace walked over and pulled the pad from her hands. He sifted through the images quickly, looking for the monster's face, but finding only city.

"You trapped him in a drawing just like you hid the Mortal Cup," she said to herself more than anything. In her heart, she knew but she'd never before had the strength to say it aloud. Even with Jace on the other side of the room, she felt strong for the first time in months. And she realized she didn't need him here. Proximity to Sebastian was all she needed.

A few minutes had passed and nobody spoke, trying to wrap their heads around the situation. Jace was the first to shout out suddenly, "You hid him in a freakin' picture?!"

Luke stood and glared at him, warning him to calm down or leave. Clary threw the pad across the room, her nostrils flaring. "He isn't there! Those are sketches. Where is the real painting, Mom?"

Jocelyn sighed and Luke helped her to her feet. She was wearing a long, flowy white nightgown and her red hair was loose and curling down her back. Jace watched her move down the hallway, lingering behind to wonder if Clary would look like this in years to come. Would she age as gracefully? Would she bear her marks with the same pride? Would he be there for her the way Luke was for Jocelyn, by her side even if he could not have her?

Something in his heart was telling him to let go, to say goodbye, but he didn't know why or what.

"Follow me," said Jocelyn and everyone in the living room followed her to a set of double doors with the same elegant carvings on pale, almost white, wood.

Luke seemed intrigued as much as hurt, unsure of the door as though he'd never noticed it was there. Had she put a glamour on it? "Joce, why—"

"I'll explain it later, ok?" she answered him sweetly, giving him a tight smile.

They pushed in the door and, no matter the size of the room, everyone's eyes fell on the painting. It was a single panel and took up the entire back wall. "How did you have time to do this _and_ get pregnant?" asked Alec before he realized how rude he sounded. Magnus nudged him in the arm and Clary got the sense that Alec was getting extremely tired of being told to shut up. He crossed his arms and furrowed his brow but his eyes were fixed on the painting of the grand city that seemed to move before their eyes.

But, unlike the others, Clary's eyes were focused on a single spot, a tower in the distance. She reached up and touched the painting, smudging her fingers with black ink. "It's still wet?" she hissed, stepping back quickly.

"It never dries," said Jocelyn, shame smeared across her face. "I don't know why. It just never does."

Alec nudged Magnus and he stepped forward to inspect the painting. His attention flew to the symbols around the plain black frame in white. Those had dried months ago. He snapped at Izzy and pointed to the step ladder in the corner by the door. She brought them over without complaint, still trapped in the wonder of the painting's size.

"God, Mom," whispered Clary. "I feel like I can walk right into that thing. Why would you do this knowing everything he's done?"

Jocelyn put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, sweetheart, but he's my son. Even if he's part demon, I couldn't just let him die. After his body went, I trapped his soul here. I thought the demon in him would only exist in his blood. Kill that, spare the child. I didn't expect it'd be in his spirit too and I certainly didn't want you to suffer."

"I'm sorry Jocelyn but we're going to have to kill him," said Luke, standing a bit too far away for her comfort. She knew he would forgive her but it would take a lot more than ever before. He had gotten over his initial modesty now that they were "official" but he still didn't have it in him to be disappointed by her, this woman he had put on a pedestal for so many years.

She nodded twice and stepped back, going to sit near the cans of black paint against the far right wall. "I understand. Burn it."

"No can do," said Magnus, stepping back down. "He's tied to Clary now. By blood. His spirit's so strong he'd just cling to her, take her over completely even."

"He _wants_ us to destroy the painting," said Clary, focusing on the white tarps along the floor. "I can feel it."

Jace pulled out his knives and slid on his I'm-going-hunting face. "Tell me how to fight him, Magnus, and I'll tear him to shreds."

Magnus laughed and jumped off the steps. "Calm down, Sparky. He has no body. The only way you can kill him is… well, in the painting."

Jace grimaced and turned to Jocelyn. "You heard him. Send me in," he commanded.

Simon, Izzy, Alec, and Magnus all shared dubious looks. They knew where this was leading. When Jace found his latest mission, especially involving Clary's safety, it was best to stay back or chain him up to the wall because there was no one who could talk sense into him.

"I'm not going to do this with you, Jace," said Izzy. Alec and Magnus nodded in agreement. Everyone turned to Simon who looked apologetically between Clary and Izzy. They all understood that if he chose to go with Jace and Clary into the painting, it would mean he was choosing to leave Isabelle behind in all sense of the word. She clutched his hand, silently begging him to stay with her. He took a step forward but she wouldn't let go.

"Come on, Iz. I have to," he pleaded. "It's not like I'm going to die. I'm already dead."

She gave him a cross look. "Don't be a smartass. You know damn well that normal rules don't apply in a painting. You'd be leaving your body behind."

He looked to Magnus, who nodded in confirmation. Jace repocketed his knives, feeling useless and impatient. "Look, we go now. No second options. If you want to stay here, Simon, fine. Stay. But—" He turned to Clary. "But you're staying too."

She gave a soft laugh. "Are we seriously going to have this argument again?"

He pretended to be confused. "What argument? There will be no argument. You're staying here."

She laughed again. "Jace… look at me. No way in Hell am I staying here, understand? I can fight. I can help you. I'm going. Last time he nearly killed you and you were in your element. We're going into _his_ territory, his rules."

"You haven't trained in weeks, dear. YOU'RE WEAK! He has control over you and you're just leaving your body unattended. What if he possesses you completely?"

She scoffed and took a step closer till they were as close to eye to eye as possible. Her hand slowly slid up his arms, over the new muscles he'd built during the last few months. She smirked and, before he could even flinch, she had unbuckled the knives from their sheaths and were now aimed directly at his jugular.

"I'm going, _dear_," she said in a mocking tone. "And I'd like to see you stop me. I'm not as naive as before, Jace, and I'm not going to—"

Just as quickly as she'd unsheathed him, he'd stolen back the knives and was now aiming one at her waist and another against her cheek. She flinched at how cool they were against her bare skin but she didn't take her eyes from his, not even to massage her aching wrists. He'd been a little too forceful.

"Normally, I would tell you guys to whip them out and measure but that's obviously not possible here," said Magnus, laughing. "Look, Jocelyn and I have to set this thing up. You guys have five minutes and then we're ending this. Fin. Nada. Bye bye Mr. Evil Spirit. Got it? You have five minutes to figure this out or I'm leaving."

"Well, that's one way to rally the troops," muttered Simon to Alec.

Jace and Clary didn't move, locked in a staring contest. "You're not going to get her to stay," said Jocelyn out of the blue. Everyone jumped a foot off the ground at the sound of her voice. She and Luke had been locked in their own cross-room stare. "Just lower the knives."

Jace obeyed and watched as Clary walked away, feeling betrayed yet again. Defeated, he asked Magnus, "What do you need from us?"

"Just take off your shirt," said Jocelyn, standing. She wiped away the silent tears with the sleeve of her nightgown. "And I'll put an unbinding symbol on you to separate you from your body. Then, I'll paint you into the wall. Easy."

Jace scoffed and started unbuttoning his shirt. Magnus glared at Alec till he looked away, clearing his throat. Jocelyn grabbed a bucket of black paint and a large, rounded bristle paintbrush and gestured for Jace to sit down in one of the two oversized beige sofas against the wall.

She bent down and drew the symbol at the base of his throat. It dried quickly. His face didn't change, set and stern and determined, glaring at Clary almost daringly. She smirked and pulled off her own button-down shirt, revealing a simple low-neck tank top. His eyes widened slightly but he didn't move. He tried but he was stuck to the chair.

She sat down beside him, took his hand in hers defiantly, and nodded towards Jocelyn to proceed.

-----

**Reviews are better than shirtless Jace getting painted on.**


	10. Can't Pick Your Family

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**CHAPTER TEN:  
**_Can't Pick Your Family_

(But you can always pick your lovers.)

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_Aren't you silly? Thinking I'd abandon this story just like that? I'M BACK! Ha! You can thank the lovely ladies at The Mortal Archives, representing the best MI fanfiction out there. _City of Ink_ got nominated up the wazoo for their fanfic awards. Check out the categories:_

_**The Jace Award **__for Best Angst  
**The Clary Award **__for Best Romance  
**The Alec Award **__for Best Lemon (tee hee)  
**The Luke Award **__for Best Post-City of Glass  
**and the Consul Award **__for BEST AUTHOR!_

_I know! I know! HOLY COW! So, as a thank you and as an incentive for you to vote (instructions on how and where are on my profile) I bring you the highly anticipated 10__th__ chapter. Also, I've replaced the original chapter eight with the complete NC-17 version, in case you missed it on LiveJournal. My love to you all. _

This chapter's song: **Gorecki **_**by Lamb.**_

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With trembling hands, Jocelyn drew out the symbol on her daughter's chest. She bent down to kiss her forehead, almost a goodbye, and went to stand beside Luke. Clary turned her head towards Jace and extended a hand for him to take. She took in his face, the harsh angles of his stern jaw and the creases on his forehead. He was so worried, the poor thing, ready to defend her at all costs.

She brought two fingers to her lips and stretched out her arm towards his, a improvised kiss for two warriors on their deathbeds. The paint dried and they both gave a nod to Jocelyn, signaling her to start drawing the trapping rune on the painting.

"Above the tower," said Clary in a sleepy voice. Her soul was already slipping. "In the sky."

Jocelyn did as asked and Clary and Jace rested back, their eyes fluttering closed. A loud gasp followed and the two awoke in a black and white world, their hands still clasped. When they looked down, they were clothed in their usual hunting gear, their knives still in their holsters hanging by their sides. They let out a heavy sigh and started for the tower in the distance. It didn't need to be said. They weren't sure if they could even speak. They just had to get to that tower. The closer they got, the harder it got to walk as through they were penetrating a mile-wide force field around the tower.

"What's going on?" asked Jace, his voice echoing. Clary only shrugged but even as simple a gesture as that took effort. For two bodiless souls, they sure felt heavy and weighed down.

They wondered if the outside world could hear. They looked up at the sky and found themselves looking in on the room. Clary got a sudden case of vertigo and Jace had to wrap his arm around her waist to hold her up. They felt sick. It wasn't right for them to be there. This was a dead city, meant to house lost souls. Their souls were very much alive and belonged to very virile, living bodies just beyond that veil.

"I think we have to get to the tower to reconnect to our bodies," said Jace as they came upon the side of a building. He rested her up against it and they tried to catch their breath.

"We need to find him first," corrected Clary, seemingly able to speak without moving her lips. "And he's not going to be up there."

"Your psycho antenna tell you that? Ugh. That means the bastard knows we're here," said Jace, caressing the hair back from her face and finding his hands stained with ink. He raised his palm up to her to show her but her eyes were started to droop closed. "Geez! Clarissa! Wake up! I knew it! You're just dead weight."

"Shh!" she shouted, her lips still fixed. "He can hear us. We don't need to talk here. Our thoughts belong to the city and this city was built for _him_."

"In which case, I greatly apologize for any lurid thoughts I might have about you in advance."

She groaned and rolled her eyes. "My knees?" she said, puzzled by the rush of images before her. "Seriously? Knees are sexy?"

He chuckled and kissed her quickly. "Sorry. I'll stop eventually."

She punched him in the arm and he realized he felt it. He heard a yelp from above and looked up to find Alec by his side, gripping his free hand. He'd jumped, it seemed, from the pain in his arm.

Clary cursed. "Looks like if we get hurt here, we hurt in real life."

Jace didn't respond. He was too entertained by the looks of concern on the others' faces. "Punch me again," he joked. "Let's see if we can get Alec to cry."

She looked at him disapprovingly, too tired to hit him again. "Jace, I can barely move and you can't concentrate to save your life… literally. I need you to look at me and focus on finding my jackass of a brother. I can feel him tugging at me. It's like he wants me closer. It's making him stronger or something."

Jace rolled his eyes and picked up her tiny frame by the waist, throwing her over his shoulder. She didn't seem to have the strength to complain though she did moan as he muttered something about nobody turning his girlfriend into a battery.

-----

"This is ridiculous!" shouted Alec, standing up off his spot on the floor between Clary and Jace's empty bodies. He turned to Jocelyn and gripped her arms. "Please! You have to send us in."

Magnus just rested on one of the sofas across the room. He had his eyes closed but he was wide awake, leaning his elbows forward onto his knees. His perfectly sculpted eyebrows were knit together and he had a strange, flowy aura all around him.

"Stop it, Alec," he finally said, his voice low but firm. "I'm trying to make the damn runes stronger. I need her calm."

"What?" asked Jocelyn, snapping around to face her painting. It continued to shift as though the ink were rippling the canvas in low, vertical waves. Everyone watched her face change but didn't say anything. They'd all suddenly become zombies. Isabelle's teary face was buried in Simon's chest on the sofa next to Magnus. She just whimpered. Simon continued to stare between Jocelyn and Clary until all he saw was red hair anymore, and Luke had decided to calmly leave the room two hours ago. Nobody had followed him.

"But Magnus, it's been hours! How do we even know they're still alive? You can do it. You can send me in."

"Really," continued Magnus, just as firmly. "I need you to calm down, kiddo, and let me work."

Simon nodded. "Come on, Alec. Magnus is doing this for you, you know. He's trying to keep them alive for _you_."

Magnus' eyes snapped open and the canvas stopped rippling. They flew to Alec's frantic expression for a moment and stayed there as he slowly stood. His height was suddenly immensely obvious and his own cat-like eyes were hooded with darkness. For a moment, it seemed as though a fight was about to ensue. Magnus' hands were clenched into fists.

"Alec, may I speak with you outside," he growled through gritted teeth. Alec was the only one unafraid. I guess there was no reason to fear him once you see him naked. Envious, maybe, but not afraid.

Alec looked back at Clary and Jace and quickly decided to follow him outside. Everyone watched them go. "Those are the two unhappiest gay men I have ever seen. They're walking oxymorons, I tell you," mumbled Isabelle into Simon's shirt. Alec, stung, shut the door extra loudly and shot them icy glances as it closed.

"Don't take it out on the walls," said Magnus.

"You're the one who wanted to talk!" shouted Alec. "I need to be in there."

Magnus smiled coldly. "Alexander, he doesn't need you," he said softly.

Alec's eyes started to water. "And what? You do? Is that it? Is this you being jealous again? You don't have to help us if it bothers you so freakin' much!"

Magnus' eyes were still shrouded in darkness but his voice was light as always, full of love. He wasn't sure how long he was going to be able to take these cuts at his pride before he bled to death. "No, I think I've been more than reasonable. I'm always going to be here for you, no matter what. You have to stop thinking that my affection ends the day you stop needing me. And I'll stop pretending you and Jace doesn't bother me. Dammit it, Alec… if it were mutual, you know I'd let you go. You're worth it. But it's not! Look at what he's doing for her!"

The tears were flowing down Alec's face. He shook his head and turned around. Men were not supposed to cry, he told himself often, but he knew he didn't need to hide from Magnus. He turned back around and raised his chin defiantly.

"You need to calm down," Magnus whispered, crossing the space between them. He was waiting for Alec to take the final step, giving him the go-ahead. When he did, Magnus wrapped his arms around him.

"I don't know what I'll do if he dies."

Magnus continued to rub his back silently. He wanted to tell him he didn't know what would happen either. He wanted to be able to tell him he'd still be there, but nothing was certain anymore. Magnus wanted to believe that Alec had taught him how to be selfless again but he had spent too many years alone. Did he really want to tether himself to someone who could never fully love him?

-----

Clary and Jace walked for what felt like hours. They weren't sure how time worked but Jace never tired, a perk of having no body. He shifted Clary around in his arms, cradling her head to his heart, as she fell asleep. The more time they spent in the city of ink, the easier it was to move around. The ink smudged all over their gear, their faces, but Jace figured it was just camouflage now, no point in washing it away. He just prayed the city didn't swallow him up. He wasn't afraid to die but he couldn't handle being stuck there forever.

Suddenly, he heard laughter in the distance, a braying laugh that made the ink buildings vibrate as though someone were shaking liquid in a bowl. It made Jace feel seasick as Clary clung to his clothes, pulling down. He stopped walking and set her down on a park bench. Jace recognized it now. Central Park. Of course. Jocelyn joined bits and pieces of nameless cities but she could never, as a true artist, leave out Central Park. It was woven into a part of her soul now, her identity.

Jace knew he couldn't leave Clary there. Sebastian would take the first chance he could to kill her. On top of that, Jace couldn't find him without her, even if he was killing her with every step he took. He caressed her hair back because the fluid ink lines that represented her once red locks were flying about in the wet, night wind. It made him feel even more trapped, more helpless. If he couldn't stop her own damn hair from flying all over the place, how was he supposed to keep her alive?

"You're an idiot, Jace Wayland," the eerie voice echoed throughout the park. He had heard that voice in his nightmares often but it was almost painful to hear it in person. The buildings and trees shook again around them. "But you're right. She won't leave this place alive."

Jace scoffed and drew out his knife, trying to find the source of the sound. He figured he could follow the waves of ink, if he could only get Sebastian talking again.

"She's your sister. She never did a thing to you!" called Jace into the void of the empty streets.

He laughed again. "No, but _you_ did. You killed me, Jace. Your _birth_ brought about my death. Your life and the people you love then brought about the death of my father," he said, as calm and collected as Valentine.

The sound was getting closer. Jace decided not to move. Let the bastard come to him so he could still protect Clary, who had closed her eyes and fallen over on the bench. Her chest didn't move but neither of them needed to breathe, it seemed. He knew she was alive and awake and vulnerable as ever as though his soul were tied to hers stronger than ever.

"Yes, you whiny bitch. Get over it."

The laugh made Jace's hands shiver and tense into fists around his knives. He pulled them up into attack position and watched for the movements in the ink. "He's not here," whispered Clary behind him. "He's… _in_ the ink."

Jace snapped around to face her but she hadn't moved an inch. "What do you mean?"

"I can hear him moving. He walks through the walls. He comes… towards _me_."

Jace cursed and sheathed his knives again. He turned to Clary and wrapped his arms around her, a human shield. He knew Sebastian could get past him much too easily. "Clare, look at me, baby. I need you to open your eyes."

"You're scared," she said and it almost sounded loving. She liked that he was scared, which puzzled and frightened Jace even more.

"He should be," came a voice behind them. Jace didn't move. It was just a voice. Sebastian wasn't near, not as near as they felt him. _It's just a voice. It's just a voice!_

Jace picked her up in his arms and they were running now, as fast as they could manage. The heaviness was wavering but it was still strong. Clary pointed towards a house in the distance. It was just a brownstone. It wasn't the same as the home she'd left behind the day Jocelyn disappeared but the number on the house was. It'd been drawn in large beside the door. Jace realized what she meant because he'd gone to the house with her on a few occasions. Without speaking should they be overheard, they slowly climbed the stairs into the entryway. The door was open but Clary didn't go right in. She held the knob for a moment, trying to figure out the meaning of the rune on the doorknob.

"It's a protection rune," she whispered in Jace's ear. "He can't find us here."

He nodded and pushed in the door. They stepped inside but there was no furniture. There were only black walls and a window in the end with a view of demon towers they hadn't seen in the distance. They were obscured by the vastness of the skyscrapers.

"The city has its own rules, just like the real world," she explained, going to sit under the window so she didn't have to face the brilliant light from outside. She felt like she had a headache but no head to hold. The pain was on the outside, on her real body.

She cursed softly and extended a hand up to Jace, who had closed the curtains but continue to peer through the tiny sliver of light he'd allowed through. Her hand felt around at empty air, her eyes shut, and hit his knives on his right thigh. He noticed her then, trying to hold back a headache uselessly. He knelt down by her side and forgot about the demon at the gate.

"Does it hurt you too?" he asked. "We'll be out of here soon. I promise I won't let him hurt you for much longer."

"He's not the one hurting me, Jace," she answered, her face buried in her hands. "We're hurting ourselves. Can't you feel it? The heaviness is going because we're not as connected to the physical world as much anymore. Soon, we'll be spirits like him with no bodies to go back to. I can bear the damn headache if it means I'm still alive."

They were quiet for a moment as Jace pondered what she meant. He couldn't imagine being trapped here forever, even if it was with Clary. Jace didn't do commitments well. He couldn't imagine getting married or owning a house before Clary. He didn't even think he was capable of love before her and was almost positive he could never love another person like he did her at that moment. But he didn't like being trapped. It was worse than the constant fear of losing everything he cared about, which still followed him everywhere. It was prison. He had willingly checked himself into prison for this dainty little girl rested against him.

"We can't stay here forever. I'd rather die," he said.

She nodded and tried to push herself up off the floor. She turned around to the wall with the window, the darkest wall, and ran her hand gently over it. Her fingers got stained with ink and she hurried to the other side of the room, the lightest side, for a clear spot to write. She closed her eyes and saw the rune immediately. It was practically screaming at her to notice but she knew she couldn't trust her mind's eye. She was connected to Sebastian in too many ways. She had no way of knowing if the images were of her own making.

So, she opened her eyes and stared at Jace for a moment, just trying to erase her thoughts and open up her heart. "What?" he asked, starting to feel self-conscious. Then he saw her hand trace swirls on the floor and understood that he was a tool to distract. The rune that came out was only partially correct. She looked at it and knew something was missing.

Jace got up off the floor and hovered over the rune, behind her, trying to see it from her perspective. "I can't finish it," she whispered sadly. "I don't think he's letting me."

"You can feel him, right? Where he's moving?" asked Jace, ignoring the rune and going back to focus on the mission at hand.

She crossed her arms and shot him a look over her shoulder. "Damn it, Jace. You can't beat the crap out of this one. He's part of the painting. We're just visiting. If we want to fight him, we have to finish this rune. It's in my mind. It's in my heart. But it's incomplete!"

He sighed, rolled his eyes, and let his hand fall from the attack position on the hilt of his knife at his side. "You and I are 'bonded,' right? You got your energy from me when you were sick so that means we're bonded."

She shrugged and wrinkled up her face. "Jace, what the hell are you getting at?"

"The blood manifested differently in us. I kick ass. You write runes—"

She raised a finger to silence him. "I like to think I do both but sure, continue."

He smirked at her. "What if in this place, we really are soulmates? What if the angel blood linked our souls the way you're linked to Sebastian by Valentine's blood? What if, in here, I can finish the rune for you, clear through the clutter in your head?"

She knew it was unlikely. She knew she'd be giving him direct access to her every secret, opening every door to her memories, feelings… but she gritted her teeth and let him take a stab at it anyway. Something told her they'd be okay afterwards. If he didn't find the rest of the rune inside her, if they died like Sebastian wanted, he'd at least die knowing how much she loved him.

-----

_I'll try to be quick about the next update, my loves. I promise. Some sadness is in store but, hopefully, they'll still have someone left to lean on. _

**Reviews are better than knees.  
(**But votes make Jace happy.**)**


	11. How to Drown in Darkness

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**CHAPTER ELEVEN:  
**_How to Drown in Darkness_

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_Thanks so much to everyone that's been voting at the Mortal Archives Awards. COI is kicking butt and taking names. Seriously. I've added all the other nominees to my to-read list. _Sins of the Father_ is apparently my number one competition so I'm going to read it first. Lol. Voting ends Oct. 31__st__ so keep it up. Oh! Oh! And they have a forum over there so if you guys want to chat with me and other fans, have any questions, requests… you know… I check it often and totally reply. The link is on my profile as _OFFICIAL COI FORUM_ under _My Websites_. _

_You all rock my socks. Kisses from Florida! _

**This Chapter's Song: **Run by Snow Patrol.

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Jace gave her a minute to compose herself before allowing him into her mind. He knew this would not be easy for her but couldn't quite empathize. He personally had no qualms about allowing _her_ into his own mind but he didn't feel like he had anything to be apologetic for. He was crude and an ass and lived to bring others down so there really wasn't anything to hide anymore. She knew everything there was to know about him. The darkness that had been engrained into his heart had been exorcised long ago by her light, her spirit, the same spirit that had threatened to suck her dry.

Before she could finish her meditative breathing exercises in an upright breathing position, he was shaking her awake and alert. "Wait!" he called. "I have an idea! You do me, then I'll do you."

Her eyes shot open but remained overcast with obvious annoyance. "Honey, we gotta work on your sexual innuendos."

He laughed but it didn't soothe Clary any less. The laughter had a madness to it. "Go into my mind," he explained, gripping her shoulders tightly despite the softness of his voice. "If you go into mine first, I'll show you that there's nothing to be afraid of. Get me? Monkey see, monkey do, and we'll be able to get the answer out of _you_ quicker."

"How can you be so fearless?" she mumbled, closing her eyes. She sighed and shook him off her. She brought her hands up to either cheek and rested her forehead to his. He smirked triumphantly and let her.

"Breathe," he said and let the images take them.

He tried to focus on something soothing for his first memory, something to guide her in gently. He thought of her, of course, because no matter how confrontational she could be, she still lit him up inside. He took her to the first kiss and the room around them seemed to reshape accordingly, even though they knew it was just inside their heads. It was the simplest memory, always prominent in his mind, of back when it was easy and normal to be in love.

"You sentimental ass," she said and laughed, walking around the black and white scene before them. They realized how much they'd changed. It wasn't just Clary's hair or the ever-increasing number of scars on Jace's body. It was on their faces, the innocence in the roundness of their cheeks and the timid smiles they stole when neither was looking.

"This is wrong," said Jace suddenly. Clary snapped to face him, turning away from the precious scene before them. When she did, it seemed as though everything around them collapsed. They needed both of them to make the scene work. "It's not right. I didn't see that before. I didn't see that smile or that gesture. This isn't my memory, not _just_ my memory."

"You mean we're in each other's minds?" she squealed. She dropped her hands to her sides and the room was back to its usual barren, dark-lit self. "No no no. I thought I was just going to be in yours!"

He sighed. "Maybe it doesn't work that way. It's a door, Clary. It opens both ways. Now suck it up and focus. We have to figure this out. You know that the longer we take, the harder it's going to be to go back."

She growled and slapped her hands on his cheeks again. He winced. "I'm focusing. I'm focusing."

The room collapsed around them again and they were somewhere known yet… unknown. They had seen it often in dreams but had never been there. "It's an abyss," said Jace. "We're not going to find anything here. Why'd you even bring us?"

"Hey, it takes both of us, buddy. Focus! I dunno. I figured that this stupid nightmare was significant. I mean, we've both seen it. It's got to mean something, right?"

He let out a small moan. "Maybe," he whispered and took her hand. Though they hadn't moved, still forehead to forehead in the sanctuary house, they could move around freely inside their heads.

"Come on," she said with a sinister smirk and stepped forward, pulling him along. He didn't realize what she was doing until it was too late, until she had already stepped over the edge. The fall was too quick for him to steady himself on the edge and fell forward beside her. They did not feel like they were falling. It was more like floating in a large pool of ink. They could breathe because it was of course a dreamlike hallucination, a byproduct of their condition, but it was still painful.

"I can't see anything," huffed Jace. "This is wrong! We're wrong! We're going to get ourselves killed, Clary! If we die here, we die in real life."

She shook her head and shut her eyes and suddenly, they were back in the room. They both sighed with relief. He ripped her hands off his face and shook her violently.

"Stop it, Jace!" she screamed.

"Are you crazy?!" he yelled back. "You jumped into a bottomless pit, Clary! You can't do that to me! You CANNOT do that to me!"

She gasped at his passionate eyes. He'd never had any issues with suicidal missions before but that'd been him, his life at stake. She pushed him off her and held her heart. "I knew we weren't going to die, you ass! It wasn't real and I had completely control. We never even left this room."

He turned his back on her and covered his eyes with one hand, his other fist on his hip. His shoulders shook as though he were laughing or crying. She didn't realize it'd affected him so much, so suddenly, but she could feel his heartbeat echoing in the ink. It was rapid, like the incessant ringing of a bell over her skin. It made her shiver and cry.

"Jace, stop it!" she shouted but didn't try to touch him.

"This isn't me," he said softly. She had expected to hear the pain or anguish in his voice but it wasn't there. "I can feel him trying to get to you through me. This is so wrong."

"He can't get to us here."

"Maybe not physically but he was able to get to us in New York, on a different plane of existence. He can get to us anywhere, Clare. Admit it."

"What do you want me to do?" she begged, her voice breaking. Before he could respond, his feet had taken him to the door and he'd opened it, letting in the gush of warm air from outside. It knocked him back a step but he kept walking through towards the street, stabbing her heart with every step. She wanted to run after him but she felt like she'd suddenly lost her breath, that it'd been taken away with the wind.

She screamed and her mother's voice began to sound through the room. She jumped and looked around her but she was alone now. _Jace is taken over, Clary,_ said Jocelyn in an eerily disembodied voice. _He's not yours anymore. Let him go._

"I have to go after him!" she called back at nothing. "Why can't I move? Why are my feet so heavy?"

_I don't know, sweetheart. Just relax and stand still and I'll go in after you._

"No! That's what he wants! Two morsels instead of one. You need to stay away. You did this to him. You need to stay away!"

When Jocelyn didn't reply, Clary stepped forward once with no reservations. It felt like she was moving dried cement blocks rather than feet but it suddenly occurred to her that this wasn't real. It was wrong. Why did Jocelyn want her to just stop trying and let her take over? Why had Jace gone and left her? She knew he would never leave her.

Never. Not again.

And she realized that it couldn't be real. She snapped around and she might as well have walked into a dark ventilation shaft. She realized that the darkness had never gone and she'd never left the bottomless pit. She cursed and twirled around, trying to find the light again. Even the nightmare was better than the whirlwind fall down a pit.

Then, Jace's voice called out to her. "Clary, are you okay?" he asked softly. She smiled and let the abyss take her, sure that they were still safe in the room and that the pressure on her hand was Jace, still beside her, a rock to keep her steady.

"Jonathan…" she called out into the darkness, taunting him with the very nature of her existence. "I know you're there, big brother. I can feel you. Show me where to find the bottomless pit. Show me where to _kill_ you."

She felt her knees hit floor and gasped with sharp pain. "He's not going to—" began Jace's voice but it was stopped by the sudden collapse of everything around them. She had expected to see the room, Jace's beautiful face, but she didn't. She saw a long path through the city. It curved but the buildings were unique. It was a street in the real New York, a street she knew well. It was the path to the Institute.

She sighed and realized that her mother had drawn it into the city. It was the only explanation. She saw a meadow in the distance, a great empty field where she knew more metropolis should have spread on endlessly. She blinked and it was gone and she was back in Jace's arms.

She'd apparently collapsed and was about to start convulsing so Jace poked her lightly with his knife, hoping the pain would wake her. It did but she managed to get the landmarks burned into the inside of her eyelids. Whenever she blinked, whenever she paused to catch her breath, she would see that path.

"I know where to go," she said, completely ignoring his worried rant.

He sighed and sat her up. "Well, while you were exploring the abyss and dreaming that I was leaving you – yea, I totally saw that – I was digging through my own mind. I've seen the symbol before but I didn't get where. We'd never had to use it but it's not new though it is more or less forgotten. It hardens the flesh. That's why it's not used. Two curves are a little different but I think it's supposed to make Jonathan solid so I can kill him."

She nodded and stood on wobbly feet. She felt heavy still like the ink had been poured into the void where her soul once lived. She was dying. They both were, every second they were there. The urgency in his eyes confirmed that he felt the same. He grabbed her hand and they were soon running down the stairs outside their sanctuary, towards what would have been the Institute in what she once considered the real world.

It was quick but she knew it had to do with the path itself. It felt like running up an escalator. She wasn't sure if Jace was still beside her but she felt safe so he must have been. Their heartbeats got louder as they reached the other side of the city.

The path ended at a wall of bushes. Clary reached out and spread the bushes with her hands, covering her arms in black. It felt cold and she shivered. The cold went away and she looked up to see her mother covering her in a blanket. Others were asleep in the room, cuddled up in couches. She smiled, reached out for Jace's hand, and walked through to the other side.

The walk was short because they instantly came upon the black hole from their dreams. It was a pond, or so it seemed. The water was pitch black and they knew that if they fell, they would not rise again. Jace dropped her hand, relaxing at the sight of the quiet yet ominous pond.

"This is it?" he asked with a chuckle. His voice still held that madness. Clary winced at the sound of it. She wasn't used to seeing Jace scared like that. "We have to fight a puddle?"

Clary chuckled drily. "No, that doesn't make any sense. Look around us. Mom went through all this trouble to make a detailed city for him to play in and doesn't give him a physical body? She had to have drawn him."

"Maybe she drew him but he became part of the painting or something. Maybe he chose this."

Clary didn't believe it could be so simple. She looked around at the ink. It was quiet, somewhat, like she expected him to jump out of the bushes or something. She could see his face in her mind. It was covered in blood. Always covered in blood.

She closed her eyes and clenched her fists over the knives by her side, trying to focus on the image of her brother as though she could call him to them. She felt like she was walking into a lion's cage but It was worth the danger if it meant she got herself and Jace out of there. Soon.

She began to feel hands over her body and imagined it was mother wrapping the blankets around her but it soon felt wrong. Those were not her mother's hands. They were made of ink and they were wrapping around her arms like tendrils, reaching for her weapons. Before she could open her eyes again and scream at the top of her lungs, Jonathan was behind her. His arm wrapped around her throat and she couldn't breathe, let alone call out to Jace who was looking through the bushes around the pond.

He finally turned but it was too late. Jonathan had her weapons and she was putty in his arms.

Jace's eyes widened. He ran to stop it but Jonathan had cut Clary's arms and threw her down to the ground. She just laid there, frozen by a pain whose source she couldn't find. The cuts weren't on these arms. She looked up where her real body was bleeding all over her mother's sofa. She cursed and stood, reminding herself that the cuts did not impede her in the city of ink. The pain was a phantom pain and she was not in her body anymore.

Jace had a knife to Jonathan's throat but neither moved. Jace's eyes were large but he didn't move the knife. "Fight!" he screamed at Jonathan. "Why are you just standing there?!"

Clary noticed then the look on Jonathan's face. He was covered in ink like he'd just risen from the pond but it was still there. Pearly white teeth. A smile so eerie that it sent shivers down their spines.

"Why aren't you doing it, Jace? Why don't you just kill me?" he taunted, his smile turned to laughter.

He folded his arms over his chest and Jace backed away, stunned. Clary didn't know where to call out and tell him to do it. After all, she'd be asking Jace not just to kill another person but her own brother. Still, Jace had killed him once with little to no regret. He should have been able to do it again.

"Jace, do it," she said softly, trying to stand. "We need to get back to the tower. Just do it."

He snapped to face her with bewildered eyes. "Clary, he's—"

"My brother. I know. _Our_ brother. But he's killing us, Jace."

He shook his head and stepped back. "This is wrong. All of this! Why aren't you fighting me?" he asked Jonathan. "Why do all this just to get us here?"

Jonathan shook his head. "I should have known you'd be useless. Maybe Clary will be a more effective executioner. Maybe… if it's you in danger."

With that, Jonathan leapt at Jace with a long sword and before the other boy could raise his own arm in defense, the weapon had pierced him through.

Jace gasped and fell forward onto his knees. Clary ran between them, cutting Jonathan's throat. The two fell back but Jonathan's mad laughter echoed through the ink. It'd done nothing to him. She was running a knife through ink, not body.

"Even in death, I envy you, brother. Even in death. Even in your fragility, your weaknesses," hissed Jonathan from the floor.

Clary understood then. She cradled Jonathan's head against her chest and wept, knowing it couldn't help him. His wounds, like hers, were back in that room. She looked up at where Alec and Magnus were trying to stop the bleeding. Jace's eyes were closed but she trusted that he was being helped.

"I know why you did all this!" she shouted, black tears streaming from her eyes.

Jonathan's expression changed. All she saw were his black eyes. They were so somber, so tired. They mirrored her own back in the real world, back when her illness was hers alone, a painful secret. He said nothing now. He fell forward onto his knees, waiting.

"You want to die," she whispered. "You did all this so we'd come here to kill you."

"I can't believe you two can't even do _that_ right. I waited for you to find out how. I know you know the rune. You know how to make me corporeal!"

He was practically begging her to kill him. But she just knelt there by Jace's limp body. She'd never killed someone before. Not a human.

"I… I can't, Jonathan."

"I could make you do it. I'm connected to your body. I can take it over. I can kill your mother. Would that do it? Would that make it easier for you to kill me? Just do it!"

She wiped away the tears and stood, gently letting Jace's head touch the ground. She reached into the pond and began to draw into the water. The black cleared, revealing white canvas. It was never bottomless at all. It had been a fear, nothing more. She drew the first part of the rune and looked up at Jonathan. He had crawled over to Jace. He took the knife from his belt and held it over Jace's head.

"Do it, Clarissa!" he warned. "Do it, or I kill _him_."

"Why?" she whispered sadly, letting the tears flow.

He laughed again in that desperate madness. She remembered Jace's laughter, how it was based in fear. "She promised me I'd be safe, that I'd be happy where I couldn't hurt anyone. Jace killed the demon, Clary. He didn't kill the human. I am what's left. I am the soul. And I am alone. I am in pain, missing that other half, for all eternity. There is no time here and I am in Hell."

"She's our mother," she replied sadly, wiping away from tears. "She did it out of love. She thought you'd be happy here."

"SHE WAS WRONG!" he shouted, bringing the knife down onto Jace's forehead. A droplet of black blood dripped down where they met.

Clary tensed but knew he wouldn't kill him. Jace was the bargaining chip. They thought they were connected by something more primal, that she drew the energy from Jace because of what they were. Jonathan knew them too well. Everything had been leading to this.

"I'm sorry," she whispered and drew the final curves. Slowly, the ink began to settle, to dry around her.

He smiled and withdrew the knife from Jace's head. He walked into the pond as it dried, becoming one with the ink for the last time. And, when the time came that he could no longer walk deeper into the pit, he turned back to Clary and gave her one final nod.

She smiled back and covered her mouth as he took the knife and drove it into his own chest.

-----

_Big fight! Yay! A partial resolution next chapter. They have to reach the tower and remember we still have the Seelie Court to deal with and the promise of Magnus in white. Also, I'm working on a new Magnus/Alec AU one-shot called _Rules of Conduct_. Plot is below. Interested in reading or no?_

_-_

"Magnus and Alec didn't survive Alec's formative teenage years but they never quite venture far apart. Six years after Valentine's downfall, war is on the brink of igniting south of Alicante… for the sixth time… and the new Clave call upon a young group of distinguished representatives from each sect to negotiate peace. But when Jace gets pulled away this time, Alec has to fill in and Magnus can no longer avoid the reason why they broke apart all those years ago."

-

**Reviews are better than sentimental asses.**


	12. Out of the Pan

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**CHAPTER TWELVE:  
**_Out of the Pan_

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**This Chapter's Song: **The Funeral by Band of Horses.

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All sleepy eyes snapped open, alert and awake, and rushed to Jace and Clary's side. Magnus was calling out for supplies. Bandages. Alcohol. Pixie sticks. He needed the energy.

Alec stayed by his side, should his energy be needed. He knew with every spell, Magnus was being drained. He knew he should have kept his eyes on Jace and Clary, whose limp bodies bled onto the sofas and floors like something out of a horror movie, but he couldn't take his eyes off Magnus. There was nothing he could do for Jace. He wanted to do _everything_ for Magnus. Something bubbled inside of him that he didn't quite understand but was anxious to explore when his best friends weren't bleeding to death.

It took an hour but the wounds were healing. Not well, certainly not quickly, but they were healing. Jocelyn was frantic, tear-stained. Nobody knew what had happened, if this was the end, but they were no longer hurting and they were still trapped in the painting.

"We should torch it," said Izzy, staring at the painting.

Simon came up beside her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side for comfort. She shivered when her eyes reached one part of the painting. It just looked like buildings. It was a small part, but Izzy knew death and death was trapped in that little corner. She looked to Jocelyn, who still cried by Clary's side, and silently summoned her to the painting. They all came, drawn to that one little spot of ink, no larger than the circumference of a basketball against a wall-sized painting.

"It's drying," someone whispered, though nobody caught who. It was on all their minds. "The ink is drying."

They stared, watching it spread slowly. "Guys, we're watching paint dry, here," Magnus reminded them and went back to Jace and Clary's side but nobody followed. It was like watching a supernova in slow motion. They were hypnotized.

"Do you think they've won?" asked Simon. "They haven't come out yet."

"Can't we pull them out?" added Izzy, turning to Jocelyn and Magnus.

They shook their heads. "We don't know what it might do. We could hurt their souls. They need to reach the symbol over the tower, right?" Magnus asked Jocelyn, who nodded, unsure.

Then, after hours of watching and waiting uselessly, everything seemed to collide into a single minute. Luke crashed back into the room carrying unlit torches and gasoline in buckets and an expression that made everyone jump out of his path.

"Lucian, you put that down right now!" shouted Jocelyn, her hands on her hips. "My daughter is in there!"

"_Our_ daughter!" he snapped and everyone thought they saw the wolf breaking through. Luke had always been such a calming, reliable person in their lives and here he was. Holding death in his hands, desperate and hurt like they'd never seen. He'd gone years rejected by the woman he loved. He had never once tried to change his circumstance, never taken action. For such a violent alter-ago, he had never taken action. And there he was. They all stood, frozen.

"Luke, what—" she continued but he was upon her, face to face.

He clenched his fists and fought the urge to grab her shoulders and shake her though everyone in the room could tell it was his desire. "She's _our_ daughter, Jocelyn. I've been with you both for years. She sees me as a father, even if you never understood. I've taken care of you both. I've loved you. And even now, even when our biological child is growing inside you, you still keep me at a distance. I refuse to step back, Jocelyn. It's not just about you. It affects us all now. You _actions_ affect us. This abomination on the wall… it affects us, Jocy!"

"I GET IT!" she shouted, her voice cracking into a thousand different pieces. "But he was my son! He was taken from me and he was turned into this vile demon by the man I loved with all my heart. This was before you were every anything to me, Luke, long before any of these kids were born. This is a vendetta, unfinished business from my life before there was an 'us.' I cannot bring this child into the world with the knowledge that I've abandoned my first son, left him in the arms of that son of a bitch! It's mine to settle! It's my job to fix this!"

Magnus cleared his throat. "Uhm, I was born several hundred years before either of you. And I know it's pointless and rude to interrupt your little tirade but I thought you should also know that the painting is cracking."

Everyone whipped around to the wall. The ink had been so wet and so thick that, upon drying, the ink turned to a chalk-like solid away from the canvas and bits had begun to fall down. Other parts were dripping. And, in the far distance, they could hear light screaming.

-----

"Jace?" Clary called, trying to rouse him awake. She could still feel him in her mind like his hands were choking her soul to death just trying to hold on. "I can't feel my wounds anymore, baby. I think Magnus healed us."

She had propped him up over her shoulder and was dragging him as he had dragged her, with little resistance. Without Jonathan, they were completely weightless. Their souls had been separated from their bodies far too long and she could feel the death coming. It would have been peaceful if it weren't for the city falling apart around them slowly.

What had once been beautiful, elegant black lines, forming windows and doors and trees… were now dragging down onto the streets in puddles. She was walking through a city of black masses. And she had no idea if they could get to the tower in time before the stairs up to the top floor melted into another large mass.

They had managed to get a step up on the city. It was collapsing at a steady, slow rate. She stopped for a moment and tried to get Jace to open his eyes, sure that he was still alive and slowly growing stronger. She lowered him to the ground and set him down onto his knees so he could sit on his ankles. She held his cheeks and smiled, letting the peace of impending death momentarily take her over, whispering in her ear all the ways they could not escape.

"Jace," she whispered. "Open your eyes, baby. Just open them for me so I knew you're still with me."

He let out a small moan and his lips curved into a sneer she knew too well, his eyes still closed as though glued shut. "What do you mean if I'm still with you? How could I leave, Clary?"

She didn't know what about his words made the tranquility of death seem like the stupidest fucking thing she'd ever felt, considered, or even momentarily pondered during an understandably tough situation. She suddenly – urgently – needed to get back to reality, needed to feel his arms around her. What's more, she needed his lips on her neck the way he'd done what felt like a lifetime ago. She needed to keep on living so she could have this boy all to herself. Forever.

He seemed to hear every desire like the heart still beating in the ink, faltering in the distance. She rode the rush of adrenaline and pulled him to his feet. He was still blind but he didn't need these eyes. He just smiled and followed as through floating behind her. He laughed and began to run after her and it felt like they were little kids, running to some frivolous little hiding place instead of salvation.

It didn't matter if they never got there. They were together.

And so, neither would remember running up the stairs through the tower, towards the roof. They wouldn't remember the kiss they shared when they got there, completely clueless as to how to summon an exit, and they certainly wouldn't remember jumping off the roof trying to touch the symbol in the sky.

They would, however, always remember that her hand was in his when they woke surrounded by family and that they could not be torn apart until the next morning.

-----

Magnus left their room around dawn. He could smell Alec from across the long hall where he walked staring at his feet. It was a habit Magnus had been trying to change in him but one he still smiled at every time he saw it. He must have felt Magnus watching him because he looked up and smiled back brilliantly.

They met halfway down the hall so they were far enough from any rooms. It was a habit, something they did subconsciously so they wouldn't be overheard. Doors were dangerous still.

"Did Luke torch it?" asked Magnus.

Alec nodded. "Did they get to sleep okay?"

Magnus nodded back. And then the comfortable silence took over. He wrapped an arm around Alec 's waist and drew him closer. For once, there were no complaints. They were completely alone.

"You're probably tired," said Alec, a coy smirk slowly making its way to the base of Magnus' neck.

"You know… that takes up very little energy by comparison and I—"

Alec raised a hand and smacked Magnus across the head. "No, you glittery idiot," he hissed. "We're going to bed and you're going straight to sleep. Understand?"

He must have been tired because Magnus didn't contest the order. Not only did he like it when Alec tried to take control, he knew what Alec was suggesting. He'd be going to sleep but he wouldn't be going alone. They began to walk towards one of the guest rooms.

"I'm proud of you, you know," whispered Alec, pushing in the door to the room. He didn't have time to pull off the covers before Magnus fell forward, face first. They chuckled and Alec crawled in beside him, snuggling close.

"Why? 'Cause I saved your little boyfriend?" joked Magnus.

"Shut up. You did all this for me. I'm allowed to be proud of you."

"I'm keeping a list. You're more than welcome to pay me back one of these nights. It's been a while."

Alec rolled his eyes and began to run his fingers through Magnus' hair. He shuddered and, as though a curtain of magic were lowered, his hair returned to its natural long, dark length. No glitter. No make-up. No tight leather trousers or dog collars. Only smiles.

"Sure, Mags. Whatever you say," said Alec but it didn't have the usual connotation. It was an honest offer. He was opening himself up to whatever punishment Magnus could conjure for his lack of faith during the crisis.

"Anything I say?" mumbled Magnus sleepily. "Anything at all?"

Alec moaned a yes, closing his own eyes. He'd been by Jace's body the whole while and, despite drifting off every now and then, he hadn't really gotten much sleep since it all began. "Anything."

A flash of red light made him open his eyes suddenly. A little blue box was sitting on the pillow where Magnus had once been. Alec shot up and looked around. Magnus was sitting on the sofa on the other side of the room, leaning forward onto his knees and looking deathly. He'd used some of the last bits of his energy to conjure the box, which raised all sorts of alerts in Alec.

"What is it?" he asked, taking the box and opening it slowly. Were it anyone else, he's have immediately thought to wedding ring but objects such as those did not cross the mind of someone like Alec, someone who was so conditioned to the idea of spending the rest of his life alone.

Magnus rolled his eyes. "Why do people always ask that when they see a box? Open the freakin' thing and find out."

"I asked because it's you, you ass. Objects with you are _never_ what they seem. Pardon me for being afraid that a jack-in-the-box might end up being an actual guy named Jack jumping out of a box."

He lifted the tiny lid and found the remnant of what might be called a locket. It was silver and had only one face. He looked across the room at where Magnus was holding the other part, dangling from a thin, silver necklace.

"I know you hate the word but isn't this a little fruity?" asked Alec, opening and closing the box, waiting for Jack to jump out and suggest a threesome.

The word didn't even penetrate Magnus' train of thought. "Uh… yea, I guess."

At that, Alec snapped to attention and jumped off the bed. "No snappy comeback, no explanation laden with creative expletives? I mean, you just gave me a gift that wasn't edible or all kinds of dirty. What the fuck's going on?!"

He chuckled lightly and shrugged. "It means a lot to me. I want you to have it. I know it's a chick move but it does and I do."

Their eyes refused to meet and Alec was suddenly entranced by the little piece of silver. He lifted it up off the box's velvet lining and turned to see the photo. It was ancient to someone as young as Alec. It was of someone resembling Magnus. It would have been Magnus except for the human eyes. Even with the hair and make-up gone, the cat eyes remained. They weren't in the photo which meant that it probably really was an ancient photo, before ancient was ancient.

Alec looked up, his eyes begging and demanding an explanation at the same time. Was this one of those rare moments of vulnerability he was supposed to look out for in a relationship? They'd never really called it a relationship. It was a dirty word to someone like Magnus who had, at one point, been the definition of promiscuity.

"What does it mean, Mag?" he asked. "What are you trying to say?"

"Don't worry. But you're right. It says… uh, well." It wasn't confusion or pride that paused his words. It was exhaustion. His eyes were losing their yellowy splendor, returning to the darkness Alec had only ever seen in that photo.

Alec got up and knelt on the edge of the sofa, straddling him. He continued to rake his hair back lovingly, looking down with sweetness on his lips. "What does it mean to you, Mag?"

"It's all I have left of… back then. What I'm trying to say is that I want to make whatever we have official. To your parents, to _my_ family, to—"

Alec practically choked on his own tongue and quickly interrupted, "FAMILY? You have a family? You said—"

"They're as close to me as Jace and Clary and Isabelle are to you, though not technically related."

"Well, Jace and Isabelle. Clary, I could… Forget it. I get your point. Mag, are you asking me to… _marry_ you?"

If Magnus hadn't been so exhausted, he would have laughed himself to death. "No, you queen. The symbol on the front of the locket is my crest. I have it tattooed over my chest, remember? I was proposing we get you the matching tattoo but if you're in this for marriage, I'm starting to think we need to get your head examined and maybe even a lobotomy. Man!"

Alec got off him and gave him his mother's most disapproving stare, which just made Magnus laugh harder. Alec threw his arms in the air in surrender and was about to storm out when the door opened from the other side, revealing a very stricken Isabelle.

"Izzy, you okay?" he asked. Magnus continued to laugh softly in the background, dragging himself back to bed. Alec's eye roll told Izzy to ignore him. "Jace and Clary still asleep?"

She nodded, her eyes to the floor. "Yea, Simon was about to head over there now. Do you think I could talk to Magnus for a moment?"

Magnus began laughing harder, throwing his pillow over his head and attempting to pull the sheets out from under him. Alec looked murderous but decided there was no winning this. "Fine. And while you're here, maybe you can explain the evils of branding to him," he said and flipped around to shoot Magnus a quick, "You asshole!"

"Says the guy that wanted to get married!"

The laughter hit a crescendo then quickly died as soon as Alec slammed the door behind him. Magnus called Izzy over to the bed, a little more serious. He sat up and gave her his full attention.

"You're here to ask me what to do about Simon, aren't you?" he asked, as fascinated as an old woman watching a soap opera for the first time. "It's two days to the full moon back home. You've got to get to the Seelie Court. You dug yourself into this little mess, you know. I'd just rape him one last time for old time's sake and move on with Meliorn."

She glowered at him. "You know about me and Meliorn, don't you?"

"You mean that he took you back, promised he'd run off with you after Simon left, and got punished by his queen? Yes I freakin' know! Every magical creature in three dimensions knows! I'm surprised Simon doesn't but he's a bit of an oblivious idiot so I guess I'm not surprised and nobody tells nothing to the Institute. You feel indebted to Meliorn for having to suffer over you. I get it. But he suffered for a week, Iz. Why do you insist on suffering for a lifetime over your guilt about Simon? He's not some pathetic little kid anymore. He can take care of himself, take care of all of us—"

"I fucked up!" she shouted, making Magnus jump. She wasn't in the mood for long, complicated speeches about all the crappy choices she'd made and how hopeless she should feel. "I fucked up. I get it. Now, are you going to help me fool the Seelie Court or not?"

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_Seelie Court and Luke and Jocelyn next! Thanks for reading so far. _

**Reviews are better than creative expletives.**


	13. Realization of Long Held Sentiments

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**CHAPTER THIRTEEN:  
**_Realization of Long-Held Sentiments and the Such_

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_This is the final chapter, guys. I think it captures, completes, and sums up pretty much everything I began closing off in previous chapters. I'm so glad so many of you liked it enough to read this far and thanks again for voting for COI at the Mortal Archives Awards. The voting was supposed to have ended a while ago but either way, we're at the front in every category we were nominated for. You guys are amazing. I hope to see you all again after City of Fallen Angels comes out. You better believe I'll be writing another fic. TMI fans are the best out there. Enjoy. _

**This Chapter's Song: "**Kids" by MGMT.

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Jace did not understand Isabelle's need to return home so quickly. He didn't care about deadlines and Seelie Courts and deals with devils. He cared about the girl asleep beside him in bed. It was a bed they had earned with their blood, toil, tears, and sweat. Nobody could really tell them they couldn't be in the same bed anymore, not even the Lightwoods. It was obvious in the way they walked into the Institute, shoulder to shoulder with a never before seen confidence, that made everyone part to let them through.

It was also the first time Jace ever believed he deserved someone. He had come to this conclusion while on his back, dying yet again, in the ink city. It had been Jonathan who relieved him of any remaining doubt or worry, who had cemented what he only once dreamed to be true. Not only would Clary give her life for his time and time again but they were connected on such a celestial level, by a blood so pure and so beautiful, that he actually believed they could never be torn apart.

This, of course, lasted a day.

They were soon back to bickering about the smallest things, just like before the ink city was ever drawn. It was actually a bit more turbulent. Neither was afraid of losing the other so they were able to fight with all their might without the smallest hint of fear. To everyone else, it was the end of the world for the twelfth time since Clary stepped into their lives, but they said nothing.

For Isabelle and Simon, it was a lot harder walking back into the Institute. For one, Simon got hissed at something awful just for being… well, Simon, and Isabelle had a burden hanging over her head the whole walk like she was trying to remember the first 300 digits of pi in one shot. Mr. and Mrs. Lightwood were waiting with a thousand different questions but everyone went every which way, avoiding conversations and inquisitions.

Luke and Jocelyn followed them back through the portal and allowed Simon to stay in Clary's old room for the night so he didn't have to wake up his folks. He didn't know why Izzy showed up at his window later that morning until it was too late. He wasn't big on sleep, not during the night anyway, so he quickly ran to let her in. She wasn't crying yet but it only took a hug hello for all her defenses to break.

"It's okay, Iz!" he tried to assure her, blindly. "Everything's going to be okay."

He led her to Clary's bed and rested her down, lying beside her cautiously as though unsure he belonged there. He would never have the certainty Jace had, only the gentle urge to soothe her and the even smaller hope that she'd allow him the honor. He held her to his cold chest and breathed in her scent, ignoring the fact that he hadn't fed in a while.

Her legs tangled up with his and her nails dug into his back like iron pikes. She cried for a half hour before she ever spoke. "I'm sorry I didn't ask you to come home," she finally whimpered.

He snapped up, leaving the comfort of her scent. "Izzy, I've told you before in my letters—"

"No, you don't get it," she interrupted. "I haven't been able to think about anyone else since you left. And I hated it. I hated _you_ for it, so I found someone else. Meliorn. I knew it was messed up but… we did things, and we got caught and he suffered for it to keep it a secret, to protect _me_. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I didn't tell anyone. I thought, since you weren't coming back, that I could spend the rest of my life in the court and it wouldn't matter. I'm _so_ sorry."

He shushed her as lovingly as he could. He really didn't care if she'd screwed some other guy while he was away. They hadn't been a couple. He could see how much it hurt her and he was used to falling in love with people who could never really love him back. However, this one did. Wholeheartedly, it seemed. And, as much as he'd have liked to have been the kind of guy who got all possessive and jealous, he cared about her too much to worry about something so trivial.

"Izzy, I don't care. I'm not going anywhere, not until you send me away. Okay?"

He tried to sound as nonjudgmental as possible but the thirst was starting to make it hard to speak. It'd been too long since he last fed. He had his usual meal-in-a-bag somewhere in his things back in Jocelyn and Luke's living room but he didn't really think he could bring himself to part from Izzy so he swallowed hard and hoped he didn't die before she finally told him she loved him and wanted to have his scrawny, vampire babies. That was just the sort of ironic crap he had come to expect of the world and would not be surprised by it at all.

When he started tensing up and clenching painfully, Izzy realized what it was and pushed him off her. "Izzy, wait!" he shouted through gritted fangs. "I'm fine. It's fine. Don't go. I'm not going to hurt you!"

"Simon, when was the last time you fed?" she scolded from across the room, her fists firmly planted on her hips. He sat up in bed and looked down, ashamed of his clenched teeth. Izzy sighed and walked towards him, undoing the ties on the back of her dress, one still covered in ink and blood from the day before. She hadn't had time to change.

"Iz, what are you doing?" he hissed, painfully trying to move but finding it too difficult at the sight of her exposed neck and chest. Her dress fell too easily to the floor and Simon now knew that God was trying to punish him for something.

He knew Izzy had no problems with nudity from their last, shameful physical encounter, which he often replayed in his head on those lonely nights in a glass city full of loveable freaks. He knew he loved her body more than he loved food so he couldn't bring himself to break skin. And yet, as she crawled into bed with his immoveable corpse, he began to wonder if she wanted to give for once instead of just take.

She straddled him, which was painful for him in more ways than one, and bent down so he had full access to her neck. When he hesitated, she pulled her hair back, revealing the beautiful, pale flesh. Long and soft and… He gave a low whine, something animalistic that he didn't think himself capable of, and brought his lips to her neck. She was filthy, he knew, from their travels and their friends' ordeal but he didn't care.

He fought with himself to the very end, and then he dug in. And she moaned like she hadn't done that first night and she pressed herself against him, and he drank as much as she allowed.

Afterwards, fully aware that this might be her last night with him as she was, she stripped him down and lied atop him for a moment. This time, he wasn't the same scared little idiot he'd once been. His arms held her with confidence and he kissed her with longing and it made her feel like it was worth living just a while longer. It wasn't exactly love, not to her. It was safety that drew her in. And she drank of it as easily as he drank from her.

-----

Jace was woken at midnight by the sounds of a creaking door. He'd always been a light sleeper, easily woken by faraway sounds. Clary slept like a rock so he could easily slip away to tend to Izzy, standing at the door in the same clothes as three days ago with a look of triumphant defeat like he'd never seen before. He slipped on some pants and grabbed a shirt off the back of a seat and followed her out into the hall where they could whisper and hiss angrily in peace.

"What the hell is it, Iz?" he asked, pulling his shirt over his head.

She looked from him to the closed door and back again. "Clary's spending the night with you?" she asked so softly that he barely heard it.

He raised an eyebrow at her and shrugged. "Maryse sent you? She didn't say anything before! She even brought us blankets. Come on, Isabelle. Just let Clary sleep, at least."

She clasped her hand over his mouth to shut him up but he glared at her to take it away as though threatening to bite her. "No, no. Mom didn't send me. It's great. Really. It's great that you're getting what you want."

"Then what—"

"It's midnight of the full moon, Jace. I have an appointment with a Queen and I'd like you to take me, if that's okay."

He cursed rapidly to himself. He turned back towards the door and ran two gentle fingers over the carvings on the wood, a small goodbye in case he didn't make it back.

"Don't worry. I told them I'd pay your debt. I intend to keep my word. I just want someone there to watch me go," she begged. "You're the only one who understands why I have to do it, why I have to go. I know you won't try to stop me or do anything stupid to take my place. You've got Clary. You wouldn't risk anything anymore, right?"

He sighed and reluctantly shook his head. He didn't say anything, just followed her out of the Institute, two ghosts in the night. They had to mark themselves to avoid catching pneumonia in the damn lake later on but they make it to the park without incident. Nobody stopped them. Nobody knew they were missing, though they would certainly be missed later on.

Meliorn was waiting for her by the lake entrance, pacing about. He seemed surprised to see Jace there. "I thought you'd leave the runts at home. He decide he's going to grow some balls at last and take his punishment himself?"

Jace took a step forward and was about stab Meliorn with the first weapon he could carve out of a tree or something when he realized that it was exactly what the man wanted. "You don't want her to stay?" Jace whispered his realization aloud. "Ah, dammit, Iz. He loves you too? What do you have, a candy shop under that skirt?"

Meliorn scoffed but Izzy didn't let him reply. "I know," she answered for him. "But it's okay. It wouldn't have mattered if he did or not. There's no reason for me to stay behind anymore. I don't want to hurt anyone else anymore."

She stared down at her hands folded before her. "Izzy, no!" both boys scolded.

"Just take me to the queen." Before either could stop her, she had already walked into the freezing lake. Jace had no choice but to follow. He gritted his teeth and clenched his hands into fists and dove in. It was the same experience as always. Unpleasant.

He rose up out of the water and found Izzy was already being walked to the queen. He ran up after her but she held the determined walk of a reluctant bride going down the altar. He felt useless for once. No amount of angelic strength was going to keep these creatures at bay. He knew he had Clary to get back to, just like Izzy had foreseen. But he also knew that maybe he could wrangle some kind of deal to his previous deal. There had to be some other way.

He had perhaps a second to spare before the queen stood but he ran up behind Izzy and ripped off part of her skirt. She screamed out for him to stop. Meliorn came to pull him off but the queen ordered everyone still.

"I have it!" shouted Jace, waving a filthy piece of dress in the air. "I have what you asked for, your highness."

"Jace, what the hell do you think you're doing?" hissed Izzy, pulling him back away from the queen who now eyed the piece of cloth curiously.

"Bring it to me," she ordered and Jace carefully handed it to one of the others to pass to her on her throne. He backed up and took Izzy's hand, so firmly that his knuckles turned white and her fingers went numb. She didn't care. They were both staring with awe and anticipation at the queen who now studied a large blot of black ink on the dress.

"It's what you asked for," said Jace. "The blood of the other boy? It's there, in the ink. His bones are probably there too. And on time, I might add."

Izzy's jaw fell a little open. Meliorn took a step forward and did the same. Nobody else seemed to notice or care about their interaction. They got bored the moment the ripping of the dress just showed a little leg and nothing more.

After the longest minute of their lives, the queen – already having deemed their accord pointless given both visitors' love-filled aura – waved them off. "You may go," she said. "But first… I want a kiss."

Jace rolled his eyes. "Another one? Clary isn't even here. And she's not my sister!"

The queen ignored him completely. Her attention was fixed on Izzy and Meliorn. Isabelle quickly understood and straightened, turning slowly towards Meliorn.

"Oh Iz…" whispered Jace. He stood back and let it happen. This wasn't a matter of cruelty or vengeance. This was about giving her subject one last chance with his current, human obsession.

"Goodbye, Isabelle…" Meliorn whispered, leaning in slowly.

Jace had hoped that no one had missed him but time could be a little tricky in the court, if the queen deemed it so. They got out just before sunrise and didn't make it back to the Institute till a bit after that. They could hear the screaming from the entrance. Jace groaned and hurried down the path to his room. Surely enough, just as he'd heard, Clary was throwing a tantrum into her cell phone.

"…Simon, I don't care if the Institute doesn't like you! My boyfriend is missing and you're my supernaturally charged best friend. Get your butt over here! No, he didn't leave a note! Would you just get here?" She went on and on.

He leaned in the doorway and watched the scene with a small smirk. He kind of liked seeing her worry, pacing before their bed. Alec reclined in the sofa in the corner, obviously sleep-deprived and still clearly wearing his boxers and a t-shirt. He used to be a pajama kind of guy before Magnus but maybe flannel was too much of a hassle. In the low lamp light, Jace was sure he saw some errant glitter in his hair, making his smirk brighter.

Alec saw him first and quickly crossed his legs, straightening up. He'd been slipping down his seat and the boxers were quickly turning into briefs. He rubbed at his eyes and, noticing Jace's confident smirk, relaxed even further. He got up, stretched, and walked right past Jace, yawning. Clary turned around then, going to scream about a search party, when she caught Jace's easy stance against the doorframe.

"Forget it, Simon. I found him," she said and hung up quickly.

Before she could begin to complain, Isabelle walked up behind him, looking just as shabby, wet, and with a rip up the side of her dress. Jace looked back and realized what it probably looked like. A midnight romp in a nearby swimming pool. His eyes shot open and he snapped around to face her, to explain, but she was already wrapping her arms around his neck and embracing him like he'd been gone a year.

"Don't you ever leave in the middle of the night again without leaving me a note! I was worried!" she said into his neck.

He chuckled and pushed her away, caressing her cheek before leaning in for a soft kiss. It wasn't like his usual kisses, the forbidden ones or the we're-about-to-die-so-make-it-good ones. It was the I-think-we're-gonna-make-it kind and even someone as uneducated in the language of kisses as Clary understood. She smiled. It was all she could do in reply. She understood crazy one-man crusades against untold evil. She had pioneered that specific category of crazy.

"I'm glad you're home," she whispered and they walked off to the shower where he explained everything over the sounds of running water as Clary stood nearby, watching through steam-covered glass.

-----

"This dress is ridiculous," Clary muttered for the fourth time, flattening the purple ruffles in the front into place with her free hand. The other held her bouquet and, precariously dangling from two fingers, her matching purple heels.

Izzy and Jace watched in amazement on the other side of the room, already dressed to perfection. Leave it to Izzy to make purple ruffles seem sexy and to Jace to look like he's not really trying in a fancy black tux. "Clary, you can't fit that many knives on a garter belt," he warned. "This is not the best place to practice your concealed weapons training."

"Oh no. She can do it," replied Izzy. "I bet her a week's whip training on it."

"She wanted an extra week of training?" asked Jace, astonished given the state of the training room dummy, Bobby, after the last session.

Clary scoffed and started putting on her shoes, hopping around on one foot. Jace went to help but she just shoved the bouquet at him to hold. "I wanted a week _without_ training. God, don't you remember what happened to Bobby the Forsaken Dummy?"

"I have faint memories of screaming like a schoolgirl at the sight of it, yes," he answered through gritted teeth. She ended up holding onto his shoulder for balance then quickly straightened. A light knock sounded at the door and Simon snuck his head in.

"Everybody decent?" he called out, a bit too enthusiastic about catching one of us in mid-wardrobe change. Clary glared at him and Jace shoved the bouquet at him to hold. He barely noticed. His eyes were fixed on Isabelle, as they usually were. They'd had this routine for months. They'd stand on opposite sides of the room and stare awkwardly, trying to avoid and acknowledge each other at the same time.

Clary and Jace just sighed in unison, more than tired of the routine already. It hit a crescendo at the rehearsal dinner two nights ago when the staring apparently got violent and Simon stormed out of room with his Don't Feed the Vampire joke bib still wrapped around his neck. It had been Jace's idea, of course, and Simon had been too distracted by the low neck on Isabelle's little black dress to notice, making it all the funnier to everyone else at the dinner table.

"For crying out loud, guys!" shouted Jace. "Simon, if you really can't stand the sight of her, go back to Idris already. Or better yet, go find Maia and get laid already. Just stop it with the crazy looks. Life's too short, man."

"I'm immortal," he reminded, turning his deathly stare to Jace.

"Oh… right. Well, you're fucked then. Looks like you're going to be stuck being all grumpy and brokenhearted for eternity. More live theater for the rest of us."

Simon was about to punch Jace for the third time since the ink city dried up when Clary stepped in the middle, looking like a cross-pollination between a Disney piñata and an eggplant. Both men took a step back. Nobody messed with that dress. In fact, Jace was quite sure that he should keep her from the kids' table at all cost to prevent even more unnecessary crying at the reception. He'd already had about six arguments with Clary about the wedding alone and he didn't need another one, not tonight.

Or maybe he did. He figured Clary would have marriage on the brain and would start putting out words like "life partner" and "mate" into everyday conversation one of these days. They _had_ pretty much gone from strangers to casual flirtations to forbidden romances in a matter of months. They were at the soulmates stage and he was starting to get freaked. He was actually quite sure that he'd be the one crying today if Clary decided to pull an emotional bridesmaid act all of a sudden.

After all, it was her mom getting married. Her mom and her surrogate, werewolf father. It didn't get more apple pie than that.

"Why don't you let us girls finish getting ready, eh?" suggested Clary.

"Us girls?" echoed Izzy, her annoyance reaching its zenith. "I'm not—You're already dressed!"

"Oh come on!" Jace shouted, pulling Izzy outside. They just didn't want her and Simon in the same room longer than necessary. They closed the door behind them and Clary was left with her greatest friend, dancing around each other like schoolchildren at their first dance. It hadn't been this awkward before, had it? They were as close as ever but when it came to the topic of Isabelle, they still danced.

"What happened? You ran out at dinner and I still don't know why. Why aren't you answering your phone?" Clary asked, going to put the little flowers in her hair like Jocelyn instructed. He took a seat across the room and watched, bored and all sorts of conflicted.

"How do you and Jace do it?" he asked.

Clary spun around. "Do what?" she screeched.

Instantly, he shot her a look and explained, "How do you have a relationship like you do? I mean, you fight all the time. He's back to being his usual jerky self and you're back to defending him like he's some messiah and you still love each other. How do you do it?"

She shrugged and, sure there was no fixing her hair anymore, gave her answer her full attention. "It's love," she said, unsure of what else could be said. "What happened between you two? You never said and I didn't think it was right of me to ask."

He closed his eyes. "She never came back," he whispered. "After that night at the Seelie Court. She never came back to me. She never… It started everything. It ended everything."

Clary fought the urge to laugh. "Hey Simon, you know how Jace and I fight but we still love each other to bits? Do you ever wonder if maybe relationships are just a balance between chaos and support? We make mistakes every day. Most can be forgiven. Believe me when I say that if you love her, and I sort of know you do, you'll go after her. She didn't stay with Meliorn, right? She could have. Maybe she's just waiting for you to go after her. That's the one thing Jace always got right. He may have been wrong to love me back then but he sure as hell went after me while he could."

"I remember," he said, narrowing his eyes into slits.

"But what happened at the dinner?"

He sighed. "Well, I hadn't eaten and she saw that and started… well, it was vampire neck porn, Clare."

She shook her head with disbelief. She didn't even answer. His problems were completely inconsequential in comparison to the evils that lurked outside that church. He knew this but he also never went back to Idris. That was the true conflict. He might be leaving soon. He might not. And, as much as Simon hoped her presence made some difference on his decision, it didn't. He just wanted some assurance that she'd be there for him when he came back. At the same time, Izzy knew that he was to leave soon and she didn't know if she could wait. She had considered going with him but none of that mattered today.

It was Luke and Jocelyn's wedding. Clary went to meet Jace before the entrance to the hall. He shot her a smirk and fought back the giggles. They, being best man and maid of honor, walked in first and took their place. Luke looked like an anxious puppy, oddly decent without all the plaid. His hair was cut, his face shaved, and it seemed that his hands were sweating profusely because he kept fumbling about with them. Folded in front or folded in back? Down by his sides? He couldn't seem to decide. Behind him was Magnus, trying to whisper to him to relax. He wore a white suit, something Chinese in style but simply enough to make it obvious he was presiding over the ceremony, not the second groom.

Then Jocelyn walked in wearing white, her hair cascading down in red waves adorned with white flowers. Everyone held their breath as she walked, an instinctive reaction to beauty. Even eight months pregnant and large as an ox, no one could compare. She reached the altar and everything stood still before their new life could begin.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Magnus' voice boomed throughout the hall. "I am not one for traditional speeches or quoting from bibles but, on this occasion, I think it appropriate to begin with these words. We have traveled far just to come back where we began, to prove we deserve to be here, and if that doesn't say something about the inevitability of this perfect union, I don't know what does."

Clary looked to Jace. Magnus looked down to Alec, whose hand flew up to his heart over his new tattoo. And Simon, against his better judgment, faced Izzy in hopes that she'd be looking back. Their eyes met and it was a silent accord. As Magnus continued, the words grew more and more significant. Even if they never got to find their mate the way Jocelyn and Luke had found each other, at least they had learned what love was.

In their own ways, they had each found a reason to fight and it made it that much easier to go on.

-----

**Reviews are better than I-think-we're-gonna-make-it kisses… but only slightly. **


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